Magestic 2, p.127
Magestic 2, page 127
The return of the Chancellor’s German Government and its soldiers meant that a cordon was soon thrown around the portal, and around Lobster’s men, no interaction allowed with local citizens. Lobster had discussed the matter with Jimmy, and a plan had been hatched. Supplies were flown into Berlin, 1938, from Canada and Britain, some of the supplies being from the modern era. Each day, Lobster’s men would drive out to the roadblocks erected by the 1984 German soldiers, and hand over vials of the drug, which the soldiers then sold on the black market. The demand soon became great, large amounts of cash offered for more.
The Rifles used the cash to buy things like chickens and pigs, and regularly distributed bottled or canned beer to the German soldiers, hard to come by chocolate, tinned meat, sugar, even candy bars. What had started as a kind of siege, quickly turned into a thriving business.
That black market business soon led to an approach by a vicious gang of German soldiers, men who cared little about politics, but cared a great deal about money. Jimmy saw an opportunity. Lobster supplied the officers who controlled the gangs with all sorts of goodies, including medical opiates. The gang soon started to make very good money, a small cut handed back to the Rifles.
Then the officers who ran the gang were invited inside for a chat. The result of the chat was the promise of a large shipment or two of goodies, in return for certain favours. In the days that followed, slogans appeared daubed onto walls: Free the people! Other slogans called for democracy, and for the Chancellor to be killed. Those slogans were followed by bombs going off at government officers and army bases, the criminal gang just not giving a shit. The bombs crept ever closer to the Chancellor himself, the man now under pressure from internal dissent.
1938
Jimmy landed in London, and met with the British cabinet as I ran things from Canada. Timkins was now Chancellor, planning the future economy of Britain, and Sykes was busy handling Israel in Jack’s absence. They met for a private chat on the second evening.
Jimmy produced a device to block attempts to bug them, the guards sweeping Timkins house just in case. ‘You never know,’ Jimmy had commented about the device.
‘The US administration has ... questioned my role as Chancellor,’ Timkins reported.
‘They have their own route map,’ Jimmy shrugged off. He faced Sykes. ‘Any word from Jack?’
‘He’s only been there a week,’ Sykes responded. ‘But I dare say that the embassy garden will get a new look.’
They laughed. Jimmy said, ‘Han surprised me.’
‘He surprised us all,’ Sykes complained. ‘You think he can pull it off?’
‘He said he’ll die trying,’ Jimmy reported. ‘But if he does pull it off, then the implications for this world are huge.’
‘No Chinese threat,’ Timkins noted. ‘But what if they start trading early?’
‘Then the world economy will grow, America’s portion of it diminished,’ Jimmy responded.
‘Which could lead to trade wars early on,’ Timkins pointed out.
‘Possibly,’ Jimmy agreed, ‘but you can be sure that oil won’t be traded in dollars here, and that’s one major headache fixed from the start. And, if Han plays it right, there’ll be a Chinese middle class buying luxury goods from America early on.’
‘That’ll be a hell of a tightrope act,’ Sykes cautioned. ‘Dabbling with a communist base, yet with scales of pay.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘But Han does have a head start, a massive head start. He spent thirty years as a diplomat, worked with us for forty years, and wrote books on Mao and early communism. Who better to try and steer them a middle road.’
‘I was thinking about Hong Kong,’ Timkins broached. ‘About leasing more land under license, still to 1997.’
‘More land?’ Jimmy queried.
‘Hong Kong trade boosted the UK economy. More trade will be nothing but a benefit.’
‘Talk to Han, see what he says,’ Jimmy said with a smile. ‘It’s his call now.’
‘I’ll send a note to our Ambassador in China,’ Timkins said, also now smiling. ‘But what of Africa? There are many over-confident members of the house who’ve found a new voice about our empire.’
‘Send them my way,’ Jimmy threatened. ‘I’ll silence their voices.’
Timkins waited. ‘Will you ... accelerate the break-up?’
Jimmy took a moment. ‘It doesn’t make a massive difference, since we’re swapping flags, not company boards. The Congo, and Kenya, will grow rapidly in the decade ahead, the money used internally after we’ve spent some on German reconstruction. That in itself is the key, not who flies the flag. Besides, if you want to avoid a few wars of independence that will tarnish you, best start thinking of pulling out by 1950.’
Timkins reluctantly nodded. ‘I’ve been looking at coal-oil. It’s hardly necessary, but I’ve been doing some sums, and we could be independent of American oil in a year or so, and could keep oil prices down for thirty or forty years.’
Sykes put in, ‘It would be an odd reversal; coal oil runs low in 2020, but pumped oil is still there.’
‘Maybe not a bad reversal,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘And with the Americans looking at electric cars, oil may never be seen as a weapon – or a danger. We’re definitely in new territory, and it’s hard to see the outcome now. My only fear is of an overheated economy, but we can try and control that through interest rates and trade tariffs.’
‘No news on you know who?’ Sykes asked.
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Nothing. He may not even be here now.’
‘And his purpose?’ Sykes nudged.
‘May have been to get me to 1984, either to fix that world for some reason, or to show a comparison between the worlds. My trip there has definitely shaken things up, otherwise we would have slowly altered things on this world, instead of going public and making the sweeping changes that we’re making.’
‘Maybe that was it,’ Timkins put in. ‘A change of pace was needed, not stealth.’
‘Why, I saw no particular dangers here,’ Jimmy countered with.
‘Maybe he just wanted to refine your approach,’ Sykes suggested. ‘From one of stealth - the long game, to a faster and more aggressive approach.’
‘Why?’ Jimmy posed.
‘Free you up to help other worlds, perhaps, instead of being here for the next eighty years,’ Sykes suggested.
Jimmy stared out of focus at the table for a moment. ‘Why would a son want his father freed up?’ he softly asked without looking up.
Sykes and Timkins exchanged looks. ‘Maybe,’ Sykes began, ‘a son would wish more time with his father, in the future.’
Jimmy blew out. ‘I don’t even know who the mother is. I might meet her and ignore her.’
‘Obviously not, or you’d create a paradox,’ Timkins suggested. ‘You will meet her, and have kids, or at least one.’
‘A paradox like that could do my head in, trying to second-guess which woman I make pregnant.’
‘You have her DNA match on file,’ Sykes suggested with a grin. ‘So just steal a hair on your first date, and you’ll know!’
Jimmy shot him a look. ‘That could be an interesting conversation: come back to my place, we’re destined to have kids – and I have the proof!’
‘An interesting way of getting a lady into bed,’ Timkins noted. ‘But given that it’s you, who would refuse?’
The next day, after a sleepless night, Jimmy called Dr Helen Astor, and asked if he could pop up and see her. She agreed. Jimmy drove up in convoy, an hour to reach the town of Ware and the country estate of the Astor family. He liked the estate as they drove in, lines of tall trees, horses roaming free. They parked around a dated stone fountain, stepping out to peer up at a four-storey hundred room mansion.
A waiting maid showed Jimmy inside - the bodyguards hanging back, and Jimmy stepped into a reception room, two nannies assisting with two toddlers and a baby.
‘Looks like you have your hands full,’ Jimmy commented as he entered the room, Helen sat with the baby on her lap. He sat next to her. Without saying anything, Helen passed over the bundle. ‘This is Christopher, your son.’
‘My ... son?’ Jimmy queried as he held the baby, the child staring up at the strange face, looking cute in his white bonnet.
‘I was a little unkind to you in my subterfuge and scheming,’ Helen softly admitted. ‘I ... did a little research with Doctor Graham’s help, although he never knew why. After we ... coupled the last time I retrieved the rubber from the bin, and placed it in a specially adapted part of a fridge.’ Jimmy’s eyes widened. ‘And ... I made good use of your seed.’
Jimmy looked across at the two girls.
‘Yes, they’re both yours,’ Helen admitted. ‘And normal; no degradation because of time, something that may be put down to your unusual blood, and mine.’
Jimmy stared down at the boy, as the baby boy waved his chubby little arms about, gurgling.
‘They heal very quickly, faster than myself,’ Dr Astor pointed out.
‘They have my blood then,’ he realised, still staring down. He placed a large finger where the baby could grip it.
‘There’s something else,’ Helen began. ‘I had a visitor.’
Jimmy lifted his head and made eye contact. ‘My son, as an adult?’
Helen nodded. ‘Christopher came to me a week or so ago. At first I thought it was you, he takes after you so much, tall and broad shouldered. He ... he asked me to inform you about the children.’
Jimmy stared back, and waited.
‘I ... was not planning on doing so, but raising them myself.’
Jimmy waited.
‘I know how hard you work, how much you travel, and how important this all is to you.’
‘And now?’
‘When your son comes back from the future to tell you something ... you listen,’ Helen softly emphasised. ‘I’d ... like you play a role in raising them.’
Jimmy stared down at the young Christopher. ‘I’d like that. But how much of a role, and what do you want, really want?’
‘Well, you can ... see them as often as you like.’ She paused. ‘I never loved anyone else, Jimmy, it was always you. I tried other lovers just to try and forget you, to move on, but ... I couldn’t. And your damn face was in the newspapers every day, everywhere a reminder of the good work you were doing.’
Jimmy twisted his upper body and beckoned a guard with a look. When the man drew near, Jimmy said, ‘Have my luggage brought from London. Then call Paul and tell him ... tell him I’m taking a holiday. Ask him to handle things for a while, including 1984.’
When he faced her again, Helen asked, ‘You’ll stay a while?’
‘Till you kick me out.’ He lifted the baby Christopher to his shoulder. ‘A woman of your standing should not have kids out of wedlock.’
She stared back, trying not to blush. Too much. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been travelling a long time, and when the seat is pulled out for you by the cosmos, you sit down and stop.’
I took the call late at night, smiled, then went and found Susan. ‘Jimmy’s moving in with Dr Helen Astor, her house in Britain. He’s asked me to run things for a while; he’s ... taking a holiday.’
‘And she has three kids out of wedlock. That’ll do the rounds.’
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you, or Jimmy.’
‘What?’ she asked after I paused.
‘They’re his kids, all three of them.’
Susan’s brow pleated. ‘He kept it secret ... for security?’
‘No, he didn’t know till today.’
‘How can he father three children ... and not know!’
I explained what I knew Helen had done, Susan staring wide-eyed at me as I grinned like an idiot.
‘Then it was his son who jumped from 1984!’
‘Before I left 2047 to join Jimmy here I met his son, he was visiting 2047 whilst Jimmy was away, to save a paradox. His identity was kept secret, everyone thinking his group from Baldy’s world; only a handful of us knew his real identity. When Jimmy got together with Helen Astor I wondered what would happen, puzzling it when they didn’t stay together. I was suspicious of her claiming to have kids by strange men, but I wasn’t sure.’
‘Did he throw the book to that world?’ Susan puzzled.
‘I don’t know, is the truth. Guess we’ll find out in ... well, when we go back. Anyway, I have a round-the-world trip to organise. You want to come?’
‘And the kids?’
‘They have nannies, and Toby can pee out the window just as well if we’re here or not.’
‘And we’ve lost Mary to her data-pad,’ Susan sighed. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you.’
‘I’ll break the bad news to Cookie and Sandra; they’ll love spending more time with Toby.’
We set off a few days later, after I was sure that we were on top of everything in Canada, and we headed to London in a Super Goose. Jimmy’s presidential-style Super Goose was sat waiting in London, and we’d make use of it whilst he was “holidaying”.
We decided to leave Jimmy well alone for now, and met with Timkins and Sykes, followed by a meeting with Churchill - trade at the fore, especially African trade. Kenya was rapidly becoming a global industrial centre in itself, now starting to see American companies setting up shop. Those new companies were amazed by the clean streets, the police on corners, and fast and efficient steam trains – air conditioned trains with toilets and buffet cars. Steffan had not been wasting time through the war, and had pushed track and roads out to many areas. With an increased budget, he would now extend track and roads around the Congo.
We flew overnight in comfort, from Heathrow down to Nairobi, a single leg. Landing, we were met by Rudd and Doc Graham in imported cars, our cars, present-day Rifles on duty at the airport.
‘Why did Jimmy cancel the visit?’ Rudd asked as we drove around to our hotel. ‘Has he gone to 1984?’
‘No, he ... has three kids he didn’t know about.’
‘Three?’ Doc Graham queried. ‘I wondered if one of Helen Astor’s kids might be his, but she denied it.’
‘All three of her kids are his,’ I explained. ‘Just don’t ask how.’
‘He’ll raise them?’ Rudd puzzled.
‘Apparently he will,’ I said, not giving too much away. Facing Rudd, I said, ‘How are your housekeepers?’ Susan’s interest was piqued.
‘They’re fine,’ Rudd sheepishly responded. ‘All three of them are fine.’
‘And the kids?’ I nudged.
‘Four now,’ Rudd admitted.
‘And two more on the way,’ Doc Graham loudly added.
Booked into the hotel, we travelled first around to the hospital, Doc Graham showing off his gang of international medical students.
‘Does the drug keep the numbers down?’ I asked.
‘Yes, disease is less of an issue. But we see genetic abnormalities that the drug won’t affect, plus daily injuries, a few geriatric problems that the drug won’t alter. And there are always plenty of babies to deliver.’
Back at the hotel, we sat for lunch with Rudd, a trip organised to the Rifles base afterwards. A senior white officer met us there, a Major, Ngomo and the others up in Mawlini.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked him.
‘We’re still growing,’ the man reported as he showed us into the cool interior of the officers’ mess, chairs claimed. ‘We lost sixty during the war, but we’ve not lost men who’ve quit; they want their jobs.’
‘British Brigade back?’ I asked.
‘Most of them, yes, although many have quit. Most don’t have any more of a desire for cold and green Britain than they did before, but others have seen enough action for a while.’
‘They fought well in Brest,’ I commented.
‘They did, and took heavy casualties; everyone was injured at least once. They heal up, thanks to your drugs, but the psychological scars remain.’
‘How many left?’
‘Just five hundred of them.’
‘I’ll make sure that they’re kept busy around Africa. French Brigade’s old base being utilised?’
‘We’ve put a battalion in there, it won’t go to sand and dust.’
‘How many Rifles now?’
‘Coming up to six thousand Kenyans including support staff, that many again in the Congo. What manning levels are we aiming at? ’
‘More than that, but we’re in no hurry. We aim to see the Kenyan Rifles to be the sole army of Kenya at some point.’
‘After independence?’ the man queried.
‘How do the people around here view independence?’ I probed.
‘The whites don’t want it, the blacks do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And our Rifles are seen as both being able to quell any uprising, but also a danger if they turned on the whites.’
‘They won’t turn on the whites, nor do we intend using them to quell their countrymen. We see independence as ... inevitable.’
‘You’re the time travellers. But what do the politicians in London think?’
‘They’d like to keep their colonies, but they’re aware that countries will always want their independence. Problem is, we know that independent Africa states will be cruel to their people, they’ll be run by corrupt leaders, and they’ll not advance their nations.’
‘Seems that keeping the empire intact is not such a bad thing.’
I shrugged. ‘When the countries around Africa desire independence we’ll make sure that power is handed over peacefully, and to people we like; we’ll have a very large input to African politics from here on.’
‘You’ve already got this place sewn up, there’ll not be much of a difference after independence.’
Susan and I inspected a few units of soldiers who had lined up and marched about for us, and I enquired about the men’s role in the war. Some of these had landed in Italy, and a few of those present had fought in the Alps.
Back in Nairobi we enjoyed a peaceful evening at the hotel, no kids around, flying up to Mawlini in the morning. Descending towards the base, it reminded me of how it had been in 1990, many compounds fenced off, many wooden huts laid out, a few brick buildings scattered around. Now I could see a great many tents arranged in regimented neat lines, Goose and Super Goose aircraft on the apron, a few Boeings and prop fighters, an old Cessna or two.
The Rifles used the cash to buy things like chickens and pigs, and regularly distributed bottled or canned beer to the German soldiers, hard to come by chocolate, tinned meat, sugar, even candy bars. What had started as a kind of siege, quickly turned into a thriving business.
That black market business soon led to an approach by a vicious gang of German soldiers, men who cared little about politics, but cared a great deal about money. Jimmy saw an opportunity. Lobster supplied the officers who controlled the gangs with all sorts of goodies, including medical opiates. The gang soon started to make very good money, a small cut handed back to the Rifles.
Then the officers who ran the gang were invited inside for a chat. The result of the chat was the promise of a large shipment or two of goodies, in return for certain favours. In the days that followed, slogans appeared daubed onto walls: Free the people! Other slogans called for democracy, and for the Chancellor to be killed. Those slogans were followed by bombs going off at government officers and army bases, the criminal gang just not giving a shit. The bombs crept ever closer to the Chancellor himself, the man now under pressure from internal dissent.
1938
Jimmy landed in London, and met with the British cabinet as I ran things from Canada. Timkins was now Chancellor, planning the future economy of Britain, and Sykes was busy handling Israel in Jack’s absence. They met for a private chat on the second evening.
Jimmy produced a device to block attempts to bug them, the guards sweeping Timkins house just in case. ‘You never know,’ Jimmy had commented about the device.
‘The US administration has ... questioned my role as Chancellor,’ Timkins reported.
‘They have their own route map,’ Jimmy shrugged off. He faced Sykes. ‘Any word from Jack?’
‘He’s only been there a week,’ Sykes responded. ‘But I dare say that the embassy garden will get a new look.’
They laughed. Jimmy said, ‘Han surprised me.’
‘He surprised us all,’ Sykes complained. ‘You think he can pull it off?’
‘He said he’ll die trying,’ Jimmy reported. ‘But if he does pull it off, then the implications for this world are huge.’
‘No Chinese threat,’ Timkins noted. ‘But what if they start trading early?’
‘Then the world economy will grow, America’s portion of it diminished,’ Jimmy responded.
‘Which could lead to trade wars early on,’ Timkins pointed out.
‘Possibly,’ Jimmy agreed, ‘but you can be sure that oil won’t be traded in dollars here, and that’s one major headache fixed from the start. And, if Han plays it right, there’ll be a Chinese middle class buying luxury goods from America early on.’
‘That’ll be a hell of a tightrope act,’ Sykes cautioned. ‘Dabbling with a communist base, yet with scales of pay.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘But Han does have a head start, a massive head start. He spent thirty years as a diplomat, worked with us for forty years, and wrote books on Mao and early communism. Who better to try and steer them a middle road.’
‘I was thinking about Hong Kong,’ Timkins broached. ‘About leasing more land under license, still to 1997.’
‘More land?’ Jimmy queried.
‘Hong Kong trade boosted the UK economy. More trade will be nothing but a benefit.’
‘Talk to Han, see what he says,’ Jimmy said with a smile. ‘It’s his call now.’
‘I’ll send a note to our Ambassador in China,’ Timkins said, also now smiling. ‘But what of Africa? There are many over-confident members of the house who’ve found a new voice about our empire.’
‘Send them my way,’ Jimmy threatened. ‘I’ll silence their voices.’
Timkins waited. ‘Will you ... accelerate the break-up?’
Jimmy took a moment. ‘It doesn’t make a massive difference, since we’re swapping flags, not company boards. The Congo, and Kenya, will grow rapidly in the decade ahead, the money used internally after we’ve spent some on German reconstruction. That in itself is the key, not who flies the flag. Besides, if you want to avoid a few wars of independence that will tarnish you, best start thinking of pulling out by 1950.’
Timkins reluctantly nodded. ‘I’ve been looking at coal-oil. It’s hardly necessary, but I’ve been doing some sums, and we could be independent of American oil in a year or so, and could keep oil prices down for thirty or forty years.’
Sykes put in, ‘It would be an odd reversal; coal oil runs low in 2020, but pumped oil is still there.’
‘Maybe not a bad reversal,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘And with the Americans looking at electric cars, oil may never be seen as a weapon – or a danger. We’re definitely in new territory, and it’s hard to see the outcome now. My only fear is of an overheated economy, but we can try and control that through interest rates and trade tariffs.’
‘No news on you know who?’ Sykes asked.
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Nothing. He may not even be here now.’
‘And his purpose?’ Sykes nudged.
‘May have been to get me to 1984, either to fix that world for some reason, or to show a comparison between the worlds. My trip there has definitely shaken things up, otherwise we would have slowly altered things on this world, instead of going public and making the sweeping changes that we’re making.’
‘Maybe that was it,’ Timkins put in. ‘A change of pace was needed, not stealth.’
‘Why, I saw no particular dangers here,’ Jimmy countered with.
‘Maybe he just wanted to refine your approach,’ Sykes suggested. ‘From one of stealth - the long game, to a faster and more aggressive approach.’
‘Why?’ Jimmy posed.
‘Free you up to help other worlds, perhaps, instead of being here for the next eighty years,’ Sykes suggested.
Jimmy stared out of focus at the table for a moment. ‘Why would a son want his father freed up?’ he softly asked without looking up.
Sykes and Timkins exchanged looks. ‘Maybe,’ Sykes began, ‘a son would wish more time with his father, in the future.’
Jimmy blew out. ‘I don’t even know who the mother is. I might meet her and ignore her.’
‘Obviously not, or you’d create a paradox,’ Timkins suggested. ‘You will meet her, and have kids, or at least one.’
‘A paradox like that could do my head in, trying to second-guess which woman I make pregnant.’
‘You have her DNA match on file,’ Sykes suggested with a grin. ‘So just steal a hair on your first date, and you’ll know!’
Jimmy shot him a look. ‘That could be an interesting conversation: come back to my place, we’re destined to have kids – and I have the proof!’
‘An interesting way of getting a lady into bed,’ Timkins noted. ‘But given that it’s you, who would refuse?’
The next day, after a sleepless night, Jimmy called Dr Helen Astor, and asked if he could pop up and see her. She agreed. Jimmy drove up in convoy, an hour to reach the town of Ware and the country estate of the Astor family. He liked the estate as they drove in, lines of tall trees, horses roaming free. They parked around a dated stone fountain, stepping out to peer up at a four-storey hundred room mansion.
A waiting maid showed Jimmy inside - the bodyguards hanging back, and Jimmy stepped into a reception room, two nannies assisting with two toddlers and a baby.
‘Looks like you have your hands full,’ Jimmy commented as he entered the room, Helen sat with the baby on her lap. He sat next to her. Without saying anything, Helen passed over the bundle. ‘This is Christopher, your son.’
‘My ... son?’ Jimmy queried as he held the baby, the child staring up at the strange face, looking cute in his white bonnet.
‘I was a little unkind to you in my subterfuge and scheming,’ Helen softly admitted. ‘I ... did a little research with Doctor Graham’s help, although he never knew why. After we ... coupled the last time I retrieved the rubber from the bin, and placed it in a specially adapted part of a fridge.’ Jimmy’s eyes widened. ‘And ... I made good use of your seed.’
Jimmy looked across at the two girls.
‘Yes, they’re both yours,’ Helen admitted. ‘And normal; no degradation because of time, something that may be put down to your unusual blood, and mine.’
Jimmy stared down at the boy, as the baby boy waved his chubby little arms about, gurgling.
‘They heal very quickly, faster than myself,’ Dr Astor pointed out.
‘They have my blood then,’ he realised, still staring down. He placed a large finger where the baby could grip it.
‘There’s something else,’ Helen began. ‘I had a visitor.’
Jimmy lifted his head and made eye contact. ‘My son, as an adult?’
Helen nodded. ‘Christopher came to me a week or so ago. At first I thought it was you, he takes after you so much, tall and broad shouldered. He ... he asked me to inform you about the children.’
Jimmy stared back, and waited.
‘I ... was not planning on doing so, but raising them myself.’
Jimmy waited.
‘I know how hard you work, how much you travel, and how important this all is to you.’
‘And now?’
‘When your son comes back from the future to tell you something ... you listen,’ Helen softly emphasised. ‘I’d ... like you play a role in raising them.’
Jimmy stared down at the young Christopher. ‘I’d like that. But how much of a role, and what do you want, really want?’
‘Well, you can ... see them as often as you like.’ She paused. ‘I never loved anyone else, Jimmy, it was always you. I tried other lovers just to try and forget you, to move on, but ... I couldn’t. And your damn face was in the newspapers every day, everywhere a reminder of the good work you were doing.’
Jimmy twisted his upper body and beckoned a guard with a look. When the man drew near, Jimmy said, ‘Have my luggage brought from London. Then call Paul and tell him ... tell him I’m taking a holiday. Ask him to handle things for a while, including 1984.’
When he faced her again, Helen asked, ‘You’ll stay a while?’
‘Till you kick me out.’ He lifted the baby Christopher to his shoulder. ‘A woman of your standing should not have kids out of wedlock.’
She stared back, trying not to blush. Too much. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ve been travelling a long time, and when the seat is pulled out for you by the cosmos, you sit down and stop.’
I took the call late at night, smiled, then went and found Susan. ‘Jimmy’s moving in with Dr Helen Astor, her house in Britain. He’s asked me to run things for a while; he’s ... taking a holiday.’
‘And she has three kids out of wedlock. That’ll do the rounds.’
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you, or Jimmy.’
‘What?’ she asked after I paused.
‘They’re his kids, all three of them.’
Susan’s brow pleated. ‘He kept it secret ... for security?’
‘No, he didn’t know till today.’
‘How can he father three children ... and not know!’
I explained what I knew Helen had done, Susan staring wide-eyed at me as I grinned like an idiot.
‘Then it was his son who jumped from 1984!’
‘Before I left 2047 to join Jimmy here I met his son, he was visiting 2047 whilst Jimmy was away, to save a paradox. His identity was kept secret, everyone thinking his group from Baldy’s world; only a handful of us knew his real identity. When Jimmy got together with Helen Astor I wondered what would happen, puzzling it when they didn’t stay together. I was suspicious of her claiming to have kids by strange men, but I wasn’t sure.’
‘Did he throw the book to that world?’ Susan puzzled.
‘I don’t know, is the truth. Guess we’ll find out in ... well, when we go back. Anyway, I have a round-the-world trip to organise. You want to come?’
‘And the kids?’
‘They have nannies, and Toby can pee out the window just as well if we’re here or not.’
‘And we’ve lost Mary to her data-pad,’ Susan sighed. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you.’
‘I’ll break the bad news to Cookie and Sandra; they’ll love spending more time with Toby.’
We set off a few days later, after I was sure that we were on top of everything in Canada, and we headed to London in a Super Goose. Jimmy’s presidential-style Super Goose was sat waiting in London, and we’d make use of it whilst he was “holidaying”.
We decided to leave Jimmy well alone for now, and met with Timkins and Sykes, followed by a meeting with Churchill - trade at the fore, especially African trade. Kenya was rapidly becoming a global industrial centre in itself, now starting to see American companies setting up shop. Those new companies were amazed by the clean streets, the police on corners, and fast and efficient steam trains – air conditioned trains with toilets and buffet cars. Steffan had not been wasting time through the war, and had pushed track and roads out to many areas. With an increased budget, he would now extend track and roads around the Congo.
We flew overnight in comfort, from Heathrow down to Nairobi, a single leg. Landing, we were met by Rudd and Doc Graham in imported cars, our cars, present-day Rifles on duty at the airport.
‘Why did Jimmy cancel the visit?’ Rudd asked as we drove around to our hotel. ‘Has he gone to 1984?’
‘No, he ... has three kids he didn’t know about.’
‘Three?’ Doc Graham queried. ‘I wondered if one of Helen Astor’s kids might be his, but she denied it.’
‘All three of her kids are his,’ I explained. ‘Just don’t ask how.’
‘He’ll raise them?’ Rudd puzzled.
‘Apparently he will,’ I said, not giving too much away. Facing Rudd, I said, ‘How are your housekeepers?’ Susan’s interest was piqued.
‘They’re fine,’ Rudd sheepishly responded. ‘All three of them are fine.’
‘And the kids?’ I nudged.
‘Four now,’ Rudd admitted.
‘And two more on the way,’ Doc Graham loudly added.
Booked into the hotel, we travelled first around to the hospital, Doc Graham showing off his gang of international medical students.
‘Does the drug keep the numbers down?’ I asked.
‘Yes, disease is less of an issue. But we see genetic abnormalities that the drug won’t affect, plus daily injuries, a few geriatric problems that the drug won’t alter. And there are always plenty of babies to deliver.’
Back at the hotel, we sat for lunch with Rudd, a trip organised to the Rifles base afterwards. A senior white officer met us there, a Major, Ngomo and the others up in Mawlini.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked him.
‘We’re still growing,’ the man reported as he showed us into the cool interior of the officers’ mess, chairs claimed. ‘We lost sixty during the war, but we’ve not lost men who’ve quit; they want their jobs.’
‘British Brigade back?’ I asked.
‘Most of them, yes, although many have quit. Most don’t have any more of a desire for cold and green Britain than they did before, but others have seen enough action for a while.’
‘They fought well in Brest,’ I commented.
‘They did, and took heavy casualties; everyone was injured at least once. They heal up, thanks to your drugs, but the psychological scars remain.’
‘How many left?’
‘Just five hundred of them.’
‘I’ll make sure that they’re kept busy around Africa. French Brigade’s old base being utilised?’
‘We’ve put a battalion in there, it won’t go to sand and dust.’
‘How many Rifles now?’
‘Coming up to six thousand Kenyans including support staff, that many again in the Congo. What manning levels are we aiming at? ’
‘More than that, but we’re in no hurry. We aim to see the Kenyan Rifles to be the sole army of Kenya at some point.’
‘After independence?’ the man queried.
‘How do the people around here view independence?’ I probed.
‘The whites don’t want it, the blacks do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And our Rifles are seen as both being able to quell any uprising, but also a danger if they turned on the whites.’
‘They won’t turn on the whites, nor do we intend using them to quell their countrymen. We see independence as ... inevitable.’
‘You’re the time travellers. But what do the politicians in London think?’
‘They’d like to keep their colonies, but they’re aware that countries will always want their independence. Problem is, we know that independent Africa states will be cruel to their people, they’ll be run by corrupt leaders, and they’ll not advance their nations.’
‘Seems that keeping the empire intact is not such a bad thing.’
I shrugged. ‘When the countries around Africa desire independence we’ll make sure that power is handed over peacefully, and to people we like; we’ll have a very large input to African politics from here on.’
‘You’ve already got this place sewn up, there’ll not be much of a difference after independence.’
Susan and I inspected a few units of soldiers who had lined up and marched about for us, and I enquired about the men’s role in the war. Some of these had landed in Italy, and a few of those present had fought in the Alps.
Back in Nairobi we enjoyed a peaceful evening at the hotel, no kids around, flying up to Mawlini in the morning. Descending towards the base, it reminded me of how it had been in 1990, many compounds fenced off, many wooden huts laid out, a few brick buildings scattered around. Now I could see a great many tents arranged in regimented neat lines, Goose and Super Goose aircraft on the apron, a few Boeings and prop fighters, an old Cessna or two.
