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CHAPTER FIVE

From time to time.

Sukoloff could only liken the experience to that of an insect being sucked down the drain. Although liquid in appearance and throwing vast quantities of silver spray around him, the tunnel walls neither dampened his skin nor hampered his breath. The extraordinary white knuckle ride took only seconds, yet despite the speed and spinning, he felt no disorientation. Occasionally the walls thinned and permitted him a brief look into another time or maybe dimension. With the meeting of these side roads came sounds; far off voices; the roar of an airplane; the rush of wind which for one split second overpowered the thunder of the vortex. Once came silence, a smile crossed his face as he passed the cold blackness pin-pricked with lights and the slowly turning station that could only be Mir.

�� The euphoric trip ended leaving him feeling cold, alone and frightened. He felt like a baby pulled from the warmth of his Mother�s womb. This moment was as brief as the journey itself and he rapidly stood to find his bearings and the elusive Nutt.

�� It did not take long, Nutt lay curled, still in the fetal like state that had affected Sukoloff. Nutt began to ramble, the complete works of Grimm in two seconds the instant he saw Sukoloff. He was suddenly a small child trying to convince the adult world of the existence of fairies.

�� Mr Nutt, just a few words from me... Been there, done that.�

�� The rambling was replaced by the vacant look that usually affects those with irreversible brain damage. This is brilliant, thought Sukoloff, take one young man already suffering from post combat stress and stuff him in a large clothes washer. Once you�ve done that, put him on fast spin and fluff dry, then expect him to come out sane. Nutt had to be taken back home and this suddenly caused a big problem. No matter how hard Sukoloff looked he could not find the exit hole. He knew within a few feet where he came through, but the rough brick wall was solid for its whole length.

�� Where are we, Sir?� The unexpected return of Nutt�s voice caught Sukoloff off guard and it was his turn to be vacant. The repeated question brought his senses to some order.

�� I don�t know. Stay here. Don�t move a muscle. I�ll go have a look see.�

�� Finally managing to stand on his quaking legs, Nutt stared at the wall he had so recently passed through, one minute in New York the next, somewhere? He had an ardent need for an explanation. This place, wherever, was not the city. The horizon went on forever, sky that was the clear blue only portrayed in picture books, a blue he had never seen before. Even the clear skies of Arizona paled in comparison.

�� Okay, Nutty, I know where we are.�

�� Sir? The sky? It�s different.�

�� That�s because it�s clean.�

�� Sir?�

�� We are in Rome... About... Slightly before the pollution of industry. Well, just after seventy six AD.� This was met by laughter from Nutt as he tapped his head with one finger.

�� Crackpot, mental nit-wit... You�re serious aren�t you. Well, I�ll be a lop eared gazelle, it were a worm hole.�

�� That�s the problem. At the moment it�s closed. Can you remember what you did to open it?� asked Sukoloff dropping a small bundle on the ground in front of Nutt. �And while you�re thinking... Change into those. We might as well make the most of this.�

�� Unfolding the white cloth and picking at the gold frees Nutt snorted, �A dress? You want me to wear a damn dress?�

�� Toga, my boy. I borrow them. You have to see what I have seen. And smart suits invented aren�t yet. Have you remembered how you used the hole.�

�� I won�t wear a dress no matter who asks me.�

�Nutt, I ask you something, answer please.�

�All I did was look at that painting. Not exactly look. I ran my finger over it, cause it was good.�

�� Curiosity at the growing noise from what must be the main street, Nutt conceded that the only way to explore ancient Rome was to become Roman.

�� The wall!� Nutt let out a squeal of glee as he tugged self consciously at the toga. �Stand over here and look carefully, Sir.�

�� Despite studying the blank expanse of wall, Sukoloff could see nothing unusual until Nutt enhanced the markings with his pen.

�� A spider... �

�� No, Sir, God can�t you see it? Christ, the other painting was the same. It�s Egyptian!�

�� Even standing at various angles Sukoloff could only see discolored bricks which possible took on the form of a misshapen spider.

�� You might recognize it if I draw lines on it... Like that... �

�� Stars! That�s the... That�s...�

�� Orion, Sir. This is Rigel and this Bellatrix and this...�

�� Slow down. How does this fit in with the painting. Tzavros told me it was a day-time picture.�

�� Hunter followed by two dogs... You don�t get it? Orion is the Hunter and always followed by the dog stars Canis Major...�

�� Stop! This is not the time for this...�

�� Please, Sir. Mr. Tzavros mentioned a painting he liked, noughts and crosses? He drew it and now I know what it is. The crosses are in the exact alignment of the stars in Orion�s belt or if you like, the three pyramids at Kehops. I don�t know what the circles mean though.�

�� It all sounds a bit far fetched.�

�� There is an ancient legend that tells about time travelers. Christ, it must be true!� said Nutt seemingly more exited about the old legend than the fact they had traveled in time themselves.

�� Let�s leave it for now,� Sukoloff said eyeing Nutt with a growing suspicion, Clive Peter Nutt, always in the right place at the wrong time. Premonitions or instigation�s; human or changer? �You�re Egyptian aren�t you, Nutty?�

�� No, Sir, if you remember, I�m English, I lived in Egypt.�

�� Your Father was Egyptian then,� probed Sukoloff hoping to catch him out in a lie.

�� He was Chinese. My Grandfather was Egyptian, hence the name Nutt which is ancient Egyptian. Before you ask, my Brother is German, my sister is French and my Mother was Irish.�

�� She would have to be,� he replied disappointed at his failure to find an error. �Can you speak Egyptian?�

�� No, Sir,� he said sensing he was being interrogated yet again.

�Mr Steele, how�s the investigations,� asked Henn still smiling about Tzavros� snake tunnels.

�� Getting more complicated by the minute. Catline�s doing a couple of jobs for me and security�s reading through a pile of papers. I think we should have our murderer any minute.�

�� Good, Mr. Alment and Mr. Tanen, Mr. Sukoloff has been held up for a few moments. Go through there and watch how we turn the dish to pick up downlinks all over the world. Steele, please put my paper weight down, it�s already cracked. Make yourself busy by calling Tzavros to see if he remembers his codes yet.�

Practically dragging a gapped mouthed Nutt and trying desperately not to attract attention, Sukoloff mingled with the flow of people. This was proving difficult as the child that lurks within each human had completely overtaken young Clive Nutt. His constant shouts and loud observations of each recognized building caused many a comment.

�� The Coliseum! Look! The Coliseum! Sir, it�s new. It�s huge...�

�� Nutty, shut up. If you must talk, use Latin.�

�� They stood outside the towering walls watching the bustle of Rome�s people. Exactly like modern times, tipsters were busy shouting the odds whilst beautiful girls sold programmes, sweetmeat and scents. Young men chatted to the women and shouted among each other. Even fights between rival groups were taking place as one taunted the other about the uselessness of their team.

�� Once inside both men forgot the rule of �when in Rome� and chatted happily in English. Tiers of seats headed skyward. Four stories each with eighty open arcades. White marble statues everywhere. It was the center that caused most comment with a rectangular altar around which the race would be run. Sukoloff, with apprehended coins, had paid for the most expensive seats to be closest to the action. It was not long in coming.

�� Shouts from hundreds of onlookers thundered around the building as the chariots slowly began to circle the arena. Drivers pulled hard on the reins of their four horse teams and waved at any supporter flying their colors. Once one circuit had been made they lined up behind the starting rope and the thunder of the crowds rose to a crescendo.

�� As one man, the crowd hushed and Sukoloff pointed to a highly decorated marble box and the Governor with his raised white cloth. All charioteers watched him and the horses picked up the smell of adrenaline that hung heavily throughout the Coliseum. They began to neigh and jump forward, being held back with difficulty. Suddenly the cloth was dropped and the chariots leapt forward to begin rushing madly around the course.

�� The moment of silence vanished. Drivers urged on their teams, yelling�madly cracking their whips�shaking the reins. The mains and tails of the horses flying in the wind; the colored feather plumes the only way of distinguishing which team was which. Each driver striving to get the lead, to gain the advantageous position near the central barrier. As they approached the corner, Nutt let out a loud gasp, in front of him there was just one bunch of straining horses and furiously gesticulating men. High above the shouts and thunder of hoofs came the crash of breaking wood and the heart stopping squeal of injured horses. In only a second or two the surging mass broke up; chariot followed chariot; but behind, in the settling dust, lay the mangled horses; smashed wood and a still charioteer.

�� First time around, the crowd, including Sukoloff and Nutt, was roaring with excitement.

�� Blue leads!

�� No, it�s white!�

�� Blue!� Then as suddenly as it started the cheering stopped into an almost ere silence and once again they could hear the clatter of hoofs; the whirr of the wheels; the cursing and swearing of the drivers and the cracking of whips.

�� This isn�t happening,� shouted Nutt pointing towards heroic stretcher bearers running before and behind the chariots in some suicide attempt to reach another downed charioteer.

�� Not exactly Ben Hurr is it?�

�� Fourth round, fifth, now the seventh and last. Men were cheering themselves hoarse. Women in tears of excitement. Then one large drawn out, arrr, followed by a roar of cheering as the victorious charioteer crossed the line, white wins.

�� Their hearts still beat to the rhythm of the hoofs and neither could find words to express what they had seen. A race ran centuries before, yet, it was today. No wide screen film, nor virtual reality computer game. The smell; the sound and the death were all history in the making. They left as darkness began to touch the unravaged sky and the first star looked down on a different world to the one they had seen with her last appearance.

�Now, Nutty, think. Do exactly what you did before.�

�� Gently, he ran his finger from one corner of the star system to the other and yelled in delight as his hand vanished into the liquid wall.

�� I�ll see you back in New York, Sir. But who will believe us I don�t know.�

�� A chuckle came from Sukoloff as he watched Nutt vanish and he turned back for one last look at Rome. Maybe he would come back tomorrow and with his powers, he could go back one more day and one charioteer would live.

�As I was saying... Steele, sit down, I don�t want you to leave this office until the lab boys have looked at that video. Security have read through every report written by Tremain. Everything taking place in that department was recorded, on film, sound and pen. Even coffee cups were noted.

�� Steele, please try to relax. Tremain wrote that on the morning Alment�s gun exploded, you were in the armory asking the best way to cause such an incident... �

�� I was with Zav... �

�� Wait a minute, you will have time to explain later. On the morning Tanen had the problem with a live bomb you were again in the armory touching the bombs and the detonators... �

�� I don�t believe this... Alex, no don�t stop me. Look, listen to me, we have a situation, one that requires the Sepia team. One of us is either a Changer or has the same condition as Vacily.�

�� Please put my paper weight down. Just wait for those results and for Tzavros to come back. That�s all I ask.�

�Have you got him?� Sukoloff asked when he landed back in the gallery.

�� Niet! I thought you had hims,� snorted Tzavros as he sat cross legged on top of a table.

�� I don�t believe this. Where the heck has he gone?�

�� Casually, Tzavros slid of the table and sauntered towards the painting. After squinting at it for a few moments he shrugged and asked, �You�re back, so why he isn�t?�

�� Blast, I don�t think I used the hole. I used thought to get back. Hey, that�s clever isn�t it, I can travel from time to time as well as place to place. How long have I been gone?�

�� One hour about and I don�t think leaving Nutty behind very clever. Alex calling every five seconds. He wants me back. Not alone though, he wants we should bring Nutty with us. Why I don�t know.�

�� Sukoloff paced in front of the painting frowning deeply as he thought of the time differences. One hour away from Tzavros, that was all, yet, they must have been in Rome six hours at least. Two minutes to travel hundreds of years back through the worm-hole, how long had it taken him to think back to New York? It felt like a split second. Perhaps Nutt was still traveling towards them in the hole, if not, where was he? Tzavros interrupted his thoughts with an outspoken one of his own.

�� Maybe there a side road and Nutty went down it. Or he missed us and is in next year.�

�� Okay. If I go back to Rome, thought wise. Then travel in the hole, hopefully, I�ll end up where Nutty went. Then I can bring him back, thought wise. I daren�t risk him using the hole again, he might end up lost in the past forever. If he isn�t already.�

�� Seems good, but, have you traveled in time with human before?�

�� Not exactly, no.�

�� That means never. And if you do it, how will explain that you can fly?�

�� Tzavros� questions bothered him. He had never tried anything like this before and Nutt was, at the moment, top of his list as a suspect. The last thing he wanted to do was tell him about his ghostly nature.

�� Let�s try an experiment. I take you back, let�s say one minute and see what happens.�

�� Before Tzavros could say no, Sukoloff grabbed him and thought.

�� I feel well, niet,� moaned Tzavros.

�� I think we moved, I think! Let�s try back to the moment I came through the hole.� Again he thought.

�� Have you done it?�

�� Didn�t you feel anything?� asked a puzzled Sukoloff.

�� Maybe, there slight flash before my eyes. A dull feeling that I might have just passed out. I feel not good. Only proof that we moved is, one minute my watch says ten passed, the next it�s ten to.�

�� Time stood still for the two agents as they made practice flights. Nothing in the gallery changed apart from Tzavros�s watch working overtime.

�� Can�t really prove that we�re going anywhere. My magnetic field could be upsetting your watch and last nights junk food upsetting your stomach.�

�� Has to work. Alex not wanting any excuse about not contacting one of him agents because in different century.�

�� One more try. Perhaps I�m not going back far enough.� Again he thought.

�� Screams and hysteria greeted them. On one of the few nights the gallery was full, they appeared in the middle of a crowd. Assaulted by handbags and accused of being sent from Hell, both men stood for several minutes grinning in triumph. Then laughing loudly, Sukoloff thought.

�� Was that more to your liking?�

�� Brilliant, apart one thing, have we started witch hunt? Try doing it again and... Let�s try telling them to forget everything they�ve seen.�

�� The same screams, the same bruises from overloaded handbags and Sukoloff shouting loudly, �You will forget this, it has never happened.� And he thought.

�� Well?�

�� Course I well! Are you going to go back and stop the witch-hunt or not?�

�� I did!� Sukoloff said jumping for joy. �I took you back, told everyone to forget and that�s what you did. Zav, you forgot! I can go and get Nutty.�

Keeping his mind as free of thought as possible, Sukoloff glided through the worm-hole to land next to the familiar rough stone wall. One glance into the main street told him that he was back to the exact time they had been before. The chariot race had not begun. He hesitated briefly as he wondered whether or not to try and warn the charioteer whose death was a certainty. Turning his back on the Coliseum and smiling at the thought of returning later, he walked back to the wall and entered the hole.

�� Seconds later he landed on the ground. Sukoloff had been shot upwards from the worm hole and had landed several feet away from it. The wall was gone, or perhaps had not been built yet, but the same spidery star system could still be seen, worn smooth by time and roughly carved onto a flagstone. Pulling himself up he walked back to examine it. One touch of the cold stone was enough to tell him that it was closed. If Nutt was not in this time, then he was lost forever.

�� Siste, siste!�

�� The anger in the voices made Sukoloff run in their direction and he smiled with relief as he saw Nutt. This was the briefest of smiles as he saw the men responsible for the shouting. This was definitely Rome, the same main street, some buildings recognizable, but the coliseum was missing and Nutt was in big trouble. The situation called for a Class One ghostly disappearance.

It was all becoming too much, whatever hope he held had fast disappeared when he found himself further back in time, instead of beautifully polluted New York. A shivering Clive Nutt looked around the dusty arena at all the heavily built men in strange clothes. Every one of them had more muscles than nature intended and were practicing deadly maneuvers with a variety of weapons. After a couple of hours he had given up the idea of intelligent conversation, his Latin was too poor for even the smallest explanation. Even if he could speak fluently he knew he would not be answered, these men had other things on their minds. Ever so often, the large gate would open and two men were called, where they went he did not know, but only one would return. He knew only that his fate was in the hands of God.

�� Stop shaking so much, Nutty.�

�� Sir!?� Nutt shouted jumping up in shock. �How did you find me?�

�� Simple deduction, Pia agents always head for the closest battle.�

�� The relieved grin on Nutt�s face widened as he told Sukoloff of his adventures and stifling a yawn, Sukoloff patiently pretended to listen. He had more important things on his mind, like how to tell this terrified young man, without causing a total breakdown, of his ghostly powers. Then of course there was the thrill of being in another time, a place where dreams come true with the chance to become a Gladiator.

�� Sir, do you remember me telling you about my premonitions?�

�� What?� Sukoloff said, his dreams of fame and fortune shattered.

�� Sometimes I dream that I am dying. But always alone and far away. In a place I have never seen, yet I seem to know it well. I think it�s going to happen.�

�� The men grabbed Nutt before Sukoloff could answer and he watched the young man being dragged and dressed in the Armour of a gladiator.

Hardly able to stand, not only from fear but the weight of his heavy helmet, leather trousers and long boots that were three sizes too big, Nutt looked around the sanded arena. Sand had been in his dream, so had the noise of many people shouting. The dream was different to this in that he could not remember having weapons, but now, in his trembling hands he held a shield and short dagger. In the constant nightmares there was sand and heat, not only from the sun but from inside his body. The cold of the night chilling him to the bones, a burning from within and an old, feeble man holding him and quietly weeping, �Farewell, my friend. Go to the light. It is good where you go now. I wish it was me! I wish it was me...�

�� Nutty, listen carefully and not to worry.�

�� Sir? How did you get here?�

�� Bribed your opponent with your shoes,� replied Sukoloff smugly.

�� With his eyes open wide in disbelief, Nutt stared at an entirely nude Sukoloff who was carrying a rope net and long sword. He watched him walk proudly around the amphitheatre waving at the cheering crowd. With no sign of fear he stood in front of a highly decorated box and raising his right hand he spoke loud and clear, �Ave, Caesar, monitum te salutant.�

�� The stories of the Russians and their matter-of-fact attitude to life and death ran rife throughout PIA. Nutt himself had witnessed it several times, yet this time he could swear this Russian was smiling. As he spoke the words, �those about to die salute thee,� his face lit up with the expectation of dying in front of hundreds of people. All Nutt wanted was to return to the world he knew and from there stop running in the face of death. The prospect of becoming a store keeper was becoming more attractive by the minute. Anything was better than a lifetime of terrible dreams, of visions that came to him in his waking hours as well as sleep. The nightmare of a man walking amid his friends, killing them and then forgotten. He had told Tzavros this dream, this fear and it had been answered with a shrug, death to the Russians meant nothing.

�� Did you hear what I said? Listen carefully. We have to make this look good and you must win. Fight me as if your life depended on it, because it does.�

�� Sir, I don�t understand. Why must we fight?�

�� They thought you were a runaway Gladiator. You should have fought a man who would easily win the gold in world weight lifting. I took his place because one must die in this arena. I am already dead. Make the fight look good and I will meet you at the place you left your clothes.�

�� Sir?� muttered Nutt, not fully understanding.

�� I can�t take you out of this place in front of so many people. It will be written in history books. The day two ghosts vanished in front of Claudius. After you kill me, we fly to New York.�

�� His brain numb from fear, not knowing if this was another bad dream or truth, Nutt began to rush hither and thither. Under the constant instruction of Sukoloff and the encouragement of the crowd he gave a roar and charged at Sukoloff, sword flashing.

�� He has him!� yelled the crowd as one man. Sukoloff side-stepped and back-flipped away from the blade as the crowd roared. They charged again, this time the swords touched, clanking and sparking. With a flick of his wrist, Sukoloff�s rope flew bringing Nutt to the ground. Straddled across him he raised his sword and whispered, �hit me, you Idiot.�

�� Holding his breath and saying over and over, �This is not happening.� Nutt obeyed his teacher as if on autopilot. He watched as Sukoloff fell backwards and saw him drop the sword. Nutt charged and grinning like a child winning a play fight held his dagger to Sukoloff�s belly.

�� I win! I win!� he chanted as the crowd rose to their feet screaming for blood.

�� Yes, you did. Now look towards Caesar. If he tells you to, then you must kill me,� said Sukoloff sporting a wide grin.

�� Sir! You keep going on about this, well I can�t,� shouted Nutt with one eye on Caesar who was watching the crowd and judging their reactions. Then smiling, Caesar gave the thumbs up and Nutt sighed with relief.

�� Nutty,� Sukoloff said slowly. �We�ve always been told that thumbs up was mercy. That�s wrong, thumbs down is mercy, thumbs up is death.�

�� He�s thumb up! Crickey! I can�t kill you!� Nutt said trembling again.

�� Before Nutt could react, Sukoloff grabbed his wrists, whispered almost pleadingly, �promise me you�re not a ghost,� and on receiving a nod pulled the dagger downwards. Nutt screamed as he saw the dagger disappear into Sukoloff�s belly and quickly pulled it out as the crowd applauded. Shaking uncontrollably he knelt beside him then gasped as Sukoloff winked and whispered, �Go, I�ll meet you soon.�

�� Nutt was just about dressed when Sukoloff appeared behind him and this did nothing to still his shattered nerves. Once he was afraid of nothing, he was the fun seeker, Nutty by name and nature. Now he was the complete opposite and it was hard to believe that once, this young man had been a leader. The whole situation was worrying Sukoloff.

�� Why aren�t yah dead?�

�� I am! The dagger cut only skin deep because that�s all I am. If you had been a ghost though, that would have finished me off. Killed me really dead if you like. Now two things before we go,� he said as he dressed.

�� Back to the worm-hole?�

�� Daren�t risk it.� Not giving an explanation how they would get back, he continued talking, but mainly to himself. �I have a special team and two of my members have the talent of telepathy. I want to send them a message to see if they can read thought waves through time as well as space.� He stopped and looked up towards the darkening sky. For five minutes he repeated the same message in his mind, then continued to speak to Nutt. �One more thing, you will forget everything. Nothing has happened out of the ordinary today. You will forget.�

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