The Trouble With Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

would carry even less weight. Plus these people, like him, had known, liked and worked with Quinn for years. They’d appointed him, for goodness’ sake. They were going to find it as difficult as Jace did to believe he was corrupt.
    He picked up his phone to tell Kayla his suspicions and ask her advice, then changed his mind. The knowledge might endanger her. He decided to leave it for the moment; go in to work as normal, keep his eyes open, and wait for a solution to come to him. Perhaps he should put off doing anything until the Americans arrived, which they would within days if the TiTrav was not found. He could tell them his suspicions in confidence, knowing they would not be predisposed in Quinn’s favour.
     
    The day passed slowly, the investigation proceeding without results. Jace didn’t mention the missing bullets. He found it difficult to concentrate. He was staring into space wondering how long it would be before the Americans arrived, when Quinn walked past him on his way to the door. Without breaking step he murmured,
    “I’m choosing to believe that behind that blank exterior, a hundred billion neurons are firing to some purpose.”
    Jace started guiltily and got back to scanning the list of phone calls McGuire had made. Working backwards, he had reached November of the year before. He wasn’t going to find anything. He was frowning at the list trying to focus, mind elsewhere, when a hand touched his shoulder.
    “What’s the matter?” Kayla, looking at him shrewdly.
    “Nothing. Lack of sleep. Lack of weekend.”
    “Are you sure that’s all? You look . . . kind of preoccupied. That’s not like you.”
    “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”
    Kayla checked to see that Quinn wasn’t around, and pulled up a chair next to Jace. She ran a finger down his face and spoke softly. “How about I come and cook you something nice this evening? You won’t have to do a thing. Then an early night . . .”
    She’d already noticed his preoccupation; he imagined her that evening, delicately, almost imperceptibly probing until she guessed what the problem was. Kayla was smart. He said, “Maybe later in the week? I’m too knackered to enjoy it tonight.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “That’d be a first. Okay, don’t tell me. I’ll work out what’s eating you for myself.”
     
    So that evening after an unproductive day Jace went home alone, poured himself a whiskey and lay back on the sofa, weary and anxious, mind going round like a hamster on a wheel. His eyes closed . . .
    He was back in the derelict warehouse, on the dark mezzanine looking down. Quinn and Scott stood in a pool of light. Again, the overwhelming feeling of dread, of something frightful about to happen. As he watched, Quinn pulled out his gun and fired. Scott collapsed into a heap on the concrete then disappeared. Quinn turned and looked up at Jace. The gun lifted.
    Jace woke, sweating, heart pounding. Christ . He swung his legs off the sofa and glanced at the time. Nearly seven o’clock. Beyond the balcony daylight still shone on his view of London rooftops. What was his subconscious trying to tell him now? That Scott was in danger? Why should he be?
    Suddenly it came to him. Suppose the TiTrav never turned up, which it wouldn’t if Quinn had it. The department would not write it off, or even leave it on the books as an unsolved case the way the police did. Tracking it down would remain an absolute priority, because eliminating illegal time travel was what they did, their raison d’être. The American team would arrive and start examining everything all over again in minute detail, going back to first principles. The longer the hunt went on, the wider the net would be cast and the wilder the theories that would be considered – including the possibility that someone corrupt in the department had got hold of it.
    If, however, Scott disappeared and the TiTrav never surfaced, there would be a strong supposition that he had obtained it