The Trouble With Time Read Free Page A

please. Did you find anything at Ryker’s?”
    “Not a solitary time travelling sausage.”
    There was a lengthy pause. Scott sipped his brandy. Jace glanced at the clock. Jesus, 3.10 . “Look, it’s been a long day, so if you could get to the point . . .”
    Scott jumped. “Sorry, yes. Okay. I don’t know if you know this, but my mother married an American so I lived in the States for a while.” Jace shook his head. “I went to college there. My stepdad was a pistol shooter, very keen. I did a lot of shooting with him. I think he hoped I’d take it up professionally. He’d won the World Speed Shooting Championship in 2035, and he reckoned I was good enough to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to take it that seriously, I had other priorities, but I did a lot of practice.” Scott finished his brandy in one gulp and met Jace’s eyes. “Which means that when I shoot a man who’s sixty feet away intending to hit him in the lower arm, then that’s where I hit him.”
    There was a pause. Jace said, “So you’re saying Quinn killed McGuire?”
    “I know I didn’t.”
    “What do you want me to do about it?”
    Scott flushed. He looked down, then up again. “Nothing, I guess. If I’m honest I just don’t like everybody thinking it was my bad aim that killed a man, when it wasn’t.”
    “Well, now I know it too.”
    “Really? You believe me?”
    “Maybe.”
    Scott frowned, hesitated and said, “Analysis of the bullets would prove whose gun fired which shot.”
    “Right. They won’t do that as a matter of course. You’d need authorization.”
    “Who from?”
    “Ah well. Quinn.”
    Scott’s face fell. Jace said, “Probably not the best idea, three weeks into a new job, to try to prove your boss got something wrong. Won’t improve your promotion prospects. I’ll have a think about it, but maybe don’t mention it to anyone else for now. It might be best to let it go. Quinn’s made it clear he’ll ensure you don’t get into any trouble over it.”
    After Scott had left, Jace walked to the window and stared out at the city lights, wide awake again, analysing, balancing probabilities. Scott had clearly believed what he said; but on the whole, Jace was inclined to think him mistaken. He might be as good a shot as he claimed, but he had been nervous and excited, and had never fired at a human being before.
    There was another reason the team had all believed Scott’s shot to be the fatal one. Quinn was good with a pistol, too; seven years before, he’d been part of the British Olympic shooting team in Detroit, and won gold.

CHAPTER 4
Bullets
    When Jace arrived for the meeting on Monday morning, only Kayla had got there before him. Quinn, sitting at his computer, glanced up and smiled. “You’re early too.”
    He returned his attention to the screen, and Jace sat at the round table with Kayla to wait for the others, trying not to yawn after the short night. Quinn’s office was cool; he had a weakness for elaborate clothes – the jacket he wore was black damask, with a high collar, and rows of silver buttons – but he liked his furnishings plain. The only decoration in his office consisted of contrasting textures of marble, glass, slate and steel. A clutter of transparent plastic on one end of the big desk added an incongruous note. Always inquisitive, Jace got up again to see what it was.
    Individually packed in tamper-evident bags were McGuire’s possessions that had been taken from his body. As well as the items from his pockets Jace had already seen, there was the microchip from his arm, two small bar-coded bags containing cartridges, and two similar bags each containing a bullet. The labels read:
     
    IEMA Pathology Department 1/2
    NAME: Peter William McGuire
    DATE OF DEATH: 14th May 2045
    ITEM: bullet
    LOCATION: lower arm
    NOTES:
     
    IEMA Pathology Department 2/2
    NAME: Peter William McGuire
    DATE OF DEATH: 14th May 2045
    ITEM: bullet
    LOCATION: heart
    NOTES: 2/2 bullets, cause of