The Pickpocket

Chapter 20 - A Puzzle Or Three

My jaw dropped open. Alan Turing?! The guy who cracked the enigma code?! I couldn’t believe it. I’d studied him at school (then Googled him at home) and so I knew quite a bit about him. A grin split my features and made me forget about my throbbing forehead for a while.

“Dad!” I whispered. He groaned and raised his head slightly, turning it to look at me under a mess of tangled blonde hair.

“What?”

“That’s Alan Turing!” I pointed across the street. Owen had turned to look at me and Alan Turing had done the same. He raised an eyebrow and smiled and I felt myself go red.

“Who?”

“The guy who cracked the enigma code! Created Naval Enigma and the modern computer!” I said that a little bit louder than I should have and Owen frowned at me.

“How do you know about that?” Alan Turing said, walking over. I stood up, my back straight and my vision a little blurry.

“I know a lot of things,” I replied, trying to sound wise. Unfortunately, I slurred my words due to my head injury so I sounded drunk. “Mr Turing, it is an honour-”

“Alan, please.” Turing smiled but curiosity bloomed in his eyes. “Seeing as you know so much about me.”

“Right,” I said weakly, grinning again. “Right. What did you say the date was again?”

“Fifth of January,” Owen chipped in. I frowned suddenly. I recognised the date, and knew it was connected to something, but I couldn’t quite work out what. I shrugged.

“Mr Turing,” I said, trying to sound formal and not like an excited little fanboy, “it is an honour to meet ya. You.”

He laughed at my awkwardness, a happy sound that for some reason filled me with dread.

Two days… Evil Owen whispered suddenly. Two days…

“Two days what?” I said out loud. Every head turned to me, including Dad’s. His eyes swam with pain and confusion. As I watched a tear dripped onto his lap and he looked away again.

“Indeed,” Turing said, raising an eyebrow, “two days what?”

“No idea.”

“A puzzle!” he cried, a happy smile lighting up his eyes. “I shall proceed to solve it immediately.” He turned and began to walk away. Owen frowned before running after him.

“Sir!” he called. Turing stopped walking and turned back.

“Sorry,” he called back, returning to his original position. “I got momentarily distracted there. I shan’t solve your puzzle, I’ll leave you too it.”

“Actually…” I said slowly as an idea formed in my head, “we do have a puzzle we need solving. Three, as a matter of fact.”

 

*

 

Lights flashed and the world spun. It was like I’d never left the tunnel of flashing lights. Everything seemed so near, yet so far away. Volume and pitch were weirdly distorted and my head ached. My arm felt worse. It was like someone was slowly cutting it into shreds.

I groaned quietly. Jamie didn’t hear me. He was too busy explaining a rather extravagant plan to Turing.

“Well,” he said at last, once Jamie had finished talking, “that might work. When did you say the deadline was?”

“Two… two days,” Jamie replied, hesitating slightly. I frowned. Jamie didn’t hesitate, not when he was explaining a plan that he’d thought of. He was confident, direct and completely tactless.  Never hesitating, never stopping to think. What had changed?

Pain cascaded through my arm. I could see lights flickering at my fingertips and there was a dull pain throbbing behind my temples. I groaned softly and the sound took a while to reach my ears. My arm tingled and I blinked, just once.

Then I was gone.  

 

*

 

Dad vanished. Just like that. I was talking to Alan Turing, my idol, the greatest man that ever lived (in my eyes) then my dad vanished. I didn’t know whether to be happy or annoyed - if anyone could bring my dad back, a brilliant scientist and mathematician could!

“Jamie…” Owen said uncertainly. He pointed to the now empty bench. “Where’s your dad gone?”

“I have no idea,” I replied gloomily. I decided to be annoyed. “I mean, sure, he’s injured, but God knows what sort of trouble he’s going to get himself into.”

“My dear boy, what on earth are you going to do?” Turing asked, bewilderment showing on his face. I shrugged in a nonchalant way.

“Nothing. He’ll be fine. I hope.”

 

*

 

I fell through what can only be described as a rift in time and space. It was the same kind of portal that we’d all fallen through, moments before, but this time it was different. The colours were all black and red and the only things falling with me were… memories.

I could see Jamie as a child, kicking a football against the side of the house. It smashed through the window and a familiar head poked out - Jamie’s long dead mother. I recognised the time now. It was 1915, but Jamie was older - how?

“What?” I said slowly. The memory slowed down and a voice sounded in my head. It sounded like Owen but colder, more evil. It rapidly changed to a voice I thought that I would never hear again, the same person whose head had just poked out of the window. Chloe.

“Mr Hatchett,” Chloe’s voice said smoothly, “you are stuck in a time loop. All your memories are going to be mixed up for now. When your head stops spinning and the time portal is healed, you will be deposited into whichever time the portal heals in. This will continue to happen until you are reunited with Jamie Hatchett. It is my job to ensure that never happens.”

“What?” I said again. My words were slurring and my thoughts were sluggish and slow. My vision was slowly clouding and I was finding it hard to stay awake.

“Mr Hatchett, I am a reflection. I can take any human’s from and possess them. I currently possess Owen. But I can change my form, and voice, by taking hold of people’s thoughts and memories.” A face swam into view. There were no features on it, just smooth, marble coloured skin. My eyes widened at the same time they were closing.This can’t be real, I thought to myself.Can it?

“It is indeed real,” the face whispered. The voice it spoke with poured out of its very being and it chilled me to the core. It was a voice that promised you that you would die, die slowly, painfully. And it would enjoy every second of it.