Free Borrowed Time by Jack Campbell Page A

at me. “I’m not expecting you .”
    “Something came up. Please. We don’t want anything to go wrong.”
    Kampf pulled me partway into his room. “Why? What’s happened?”
    It’d worked once. “They know. They’re on to you.”
    “What? How?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What are my orders?”
    “Abort.”
    “Abort!” He shrilled the word, his face disbelieving. “No. Impossible. They’d never order an abort at this point. Who are you?”
    I had one hand on Kampf’s coat to keep him from pulling away. “The orders are to abort.”
    Kampf barred his teeth at me. “I need verification. I won’t abort without verification, even if you threaten to kill me.”
    I tried to look menacing, which was the best I could do. My old survival instructor had drilled into me that you should never carry a gun. It made you too confident, too careless, so you missed warning signs. It also meant I didn’t have anything to shove in Kampf’s face.
    But old Professor Matson had been right. There was a tiny sound to my left, just the barest rustle of fabric which I only noticed because my senses were hyped-up with fear. I dropped to the floor while Kampf spun about partway. His coat came off in my hand at the same moment his chest exploded. The door swung wider and I got a glimpse of a newly familiar face. Psycho-blond had her gun out and was staring at what was left of Kampf with an expression that went from horrified to enraged. Then her eyes locked on me without any hint of recognition but a very Caligula-like promise of death.
    I didn’t waste time trying to get up, but rolled out of the doorway and right down the stairs, banging myself up painfully. Moments later I was once again running frantically through alleys and streets to lose my pursuer.
    An hour and considerable distance later, I chose a small garden and finally sat down to catch my breath. In one hand I still held the late Mr. Kampf’s coat. But at least I appeared to be safe for the moment from psycho-blond.
    The late Mr. Kampf’s coat didn’t match my own outfit, so I had to get rid of it as soon as possible. I went carefully through the pockets, then felt along all the seams, examined the buttons, then carefully pressed my hands along every square centimeter of fabric. Finished, I examined the meager results. A few more coins to add to my small supply of local money. A handkerchief which seemed to have no other hidden use. A big key with a number embossed on it which matched that of the room Kampf had been using. And a cancelled train ticket to Greenwich.
    I pocketed the money, returned the key and handkerchief to the coat, then took a long look at the ticket. It was apparently no more nor less than what it appeared to be. Why had Kampf gone to Greenwich? The Royal Observatory was there, so maybe he’d snuck a peak at the rock which was scheduled to arrive in less than twenty-four hours. No, that was ridiculous. The rock was probably too small to be seen by the optics available Here and Now, even if Kampf knew the exact place to look.
    I had a lot of questions for Mr. Kampf, but he wouldn’t be answering any of them for me. My stomach took that moment to once again protest. It was past noon, and the last time I’d eaten was in ancient Egypt.
    Jeannie directed me to a pub with an outdoor dining area, as I wanted to be able to keep an eye out for dangerous blonds coming my way. The early twentieth century English food wasn’t very tasty, but then I didn’t expect it to be and it did a decent job of filling me up. The English beer, though, was a positive joy. I ordered a second pint after polishing off my meal, then leaned back to ponder my next move.
    Something hard pushed against the base of my neck as a female voice whispered “don’t move.” I sat as still as I could, wondering why psycho-blond wasn’t shooting me right off the bat. Perhaps this run-in with me was coming for her before either of her earlier meetings with me. The pressure eased