A vortex opened and spat out five weary travellers. As they struggled to their feet and checked their immediate surroundings two of their number could clearly be heard squabbling.
"For the last time Mr Brown. Kindly avoid ploughing into me the next time we slide."
As Quinn rolled his eyes at Wade, Rembrandt replied, "you know I don't do it on purpose, Professor." More quietly he added, "you just make such a good target, and a soft landing to boot."
Wade, who'd overheard Rembrandt's last remark, tried not to giggle. She slipped her arm through Max's and said, "come on, Professor. We can relax now. No more of Remmy's followers."
"We can only hope," grumbled Max.
"Hey!" objected Remmy. "I was enjoying them, even if my double was some sort of athletics star."
Maggie sighed, "let's get moving. We need to scope out this world properly."
Quinn groaned, "tomorrow, please Maggie."
Maggie raised her eyebrow at him.
"Come on, guys. I desperately need a shower," called Quinn, trying to hurry them along before Maggie could drag them all off on some expedition.
"And don't we know it!" commented Wade.
Quinn shrugged and continued towards The Dominion, to tired to join in.
"Well I'm going to have a look around now. I'll meet you lot at the Dominion later," insisted Maggie, already leaving the rest of them behind.
Booking into the hotel was simple on this world, much to the Sliders' relief, so they were soon in their suite relaxing and recuperating from the previous world.
"How long are we here, Q-ball?" asked Remmy, remembering that no one had mentioned it.
"About 6 weeks," replied Quinn, who was half asleep on the sofa.
"At last a long stay, the chance to obtain some money and finally relax," smiled Max.
"Unless a certain someone goes hunting for his double's fans again," added Wade.
"I can't help it if they found me irresistible," chuckled Remmy. "I didn't need to go lookin'."
"I'm just glad it's over. All that screaming," groaned Wade.
"Quite right, Miss Wells. I for one intend to spend this first evening here fast asleep. Considering the talent of certain members of this team for getting into trouble, I suggest we would all be best served by a good nights sleep. Before anything untoward happens." Max lay back on his bed happily. "Not a single screaming woman to be heard," he mumbled.
As Max began to snore contentedly, Remmy whispered to Wade, "I think I preferred the screaming."
Nonetheless, they were all tired, and soon all four of them were peacefully sleeping.
Maggie marched purposefully around the deserted streets of San Francisco. She had covered quite a distance already, but even though it wasn't all that late she hadn't seen a single person. Something inside her warned her to be cautious, this was a little too strange. "There's something not quite right about this place. No way it should be this quiet," she thought.
Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Hey, you," a young soldier turned her round forcibly, shining a light in her face. "What." His jaw dropped. "Captain Beckett."
"Yes?" asked Maggie.
"Err. Sorry, sir. I didn't realise it was you, sir."
"At ease," said Maggie, trying to work out precisely what was going on, and how to get this grunt to tell her without arousing his suspicion. The soldier relaxed momentarily, then abruptly drew to attention. Afterwards, Maggie realised she should've guessed what was coming.
"So, Captain Beckett. Back in the country, I see," said a familiar voice.
"Yes, sir." Maggie straightened and saluted.
Colonel Rickman eyed her suspiciously. "I expect a full report on my desk in the morning."
"Yes, sir!" Maggie prayed he won't ask her any difficult questions until she'd had time to work a few thing out. Her own version of Rickman had known her far too well.
"Well, shall we be heading back then, Captain. Leave these men to their jobs," ordered Rickman.
"Yes, sir," replied Maggie, seeing little alternative. Inwardly she cursed. It was terrible luck for her to run into Rickman like that, and for him to know her double. On the other hand, at least her double hadn't shown up and proved that Maggie was an impostor, yet.
The next morning, Maggie woke early. She looked round at the eerily familiar surroundings. This particular version of herself was obviously very much like her. Seeing a phone, she took the opportunity to call the others and explain where she was. There was no knowing what she might get landed with today, especially as she still had to create some sort of phoney report for Rickman with little or no background knowledge of what was going on. She had quite a bit of research ahead of her. Trying to imagine where she would store any relevant documents, Maggie began to search her double's quarters carefully.
"Wakey wakey, everyone. Rise and shine," Quinn shouted to the others, opening the curtains so that the sun came streaming in.
"Quinn, just because you woke up early, you had to share with the rest of us. Thank you," groaned Wade.
"My pleasure." Quinn grinned down at her.
"Q-ball, I'm gonna kill you man. There I was, sharin' this incredible fantasy with..... well. And you go and shatter it." Remmy glared at him.
"Sorry man. Next time I get a proper bed, then I won't feel obliged to wake up early," Quinn responded. Actually, he'd had a good night's sleep and felt ready to take on pretty much anything, but he couldn't resist dropping the odd hint.
"Mr Mallory. You are a sadist," grumbled Max, determined to get his two-pen'orth.
"Yep," grinned Quinn. "Time to go get ourselves jobs."
"Wonderful, just what I needed this time in the morning," mumbled Remmy sleepily.
"I do have some good news," added Quinn.
"What? You're movin' out?" asked Remmy.
"I got breakfast," he announced. "oh, and Maggie called."
"Yeah? Where is she?" asked Remmy.
"Apparently she ran into a double of Rickman last night and had a little difficulty talking her way out of it. She says it's fine though, she can handle it," replied Quinn.
"I suspect we should probably respect her judgement," suggested Max. "And return to the matter of breakfast."
"I'm with you, man," agreed Remmy.
Quinn and Wade nodded, Maggie was particularly good at taking care of herself.
Barely half an hour later, the four of them hit the streets.
"Seems normal enough," yawned Wade.
"Yeah? Just you wait," muttered Rembrandt.
"No, I agree, Miss Wells. This world seems normal enough for our purposes. In which case...," Max paused for dramatic effect, "... my job seeking efforts would be best served by a visit to the university." Max smiled, apparently feeling very pleased with himself. "I shall see you later." With that he strode off, leaving the others to consider their own plans.
"Well in that case, if this world is like our own, I should be a beloved celebrity," beamed Rembrandt, suddenly less annoyed to have been awoken. "I'm off to find my agent."
"What about you, Quinn?" asked Wade, watching Rembrandt leave.
"Oh, I dunno. I think I'll just find some menial job this time. I could do with a little time to relax, chill out." Quinn shrugged happily.
"I'll see you later then," smiled Wade. "I think I'm going to see if Dopplers has got anything going."
Quinn watched her go, then sauntered down the road, casually looking for vacancies as he went.
Max arrived at the university still in good spirits. He strode purposefully into the halls, seeking to find any possible vacancies for a professor of physics. As he did so, he noticed the alarming amount of attention he was attracting. Not as bad as some worlds they had visited, but still more than a casual glance. He dismissed the thought, this world seemed normal enough. He decided it was simply his air of authority attracting attention from a few students. His thought process was interrupted when one of the students approached him.
"Excuse me?" The student, who was tall and almost as well-built as Max, looked terribly frightened of him.
"Yes? How can I help you, my boy?" beamed Max.
"I... I wondered if I could have your autograph, please?" stuttered the student.
"Certainly," agreed Max, surprised. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Leon, sir," the student swallowed.
"Leon," mumbled Max a he carefully scribed his name on the student's notepad. "There you go."
"Thank you," gasped the student, before rapidly vanishing down the corridor.
"This bodes well," said Max to himself. "This bodes very well indeed."
Wade nervously brushed her hair back before entering Dopplers. She didn't really know why, but somehow getting the equivalent of her old job, however crummy, made her feel closer to home. Her heart sank a Hurley approached her.
"How can I help you? Would you be interested in..." Hurley began.
"Actually, I was wondering if there are any job vacancies. I have a lot of experience in this area and ..." Wade interrupted, trailing off as Hurley began to wave his fingers about annoyingly.
"You have to fill in these forms in order to apply." Hurley thrust a handful of papers from his clipboard into Wade's hand.
"Do you have a pen I could borrow?" asked Wade, before Hurley could rush off again.
"Pen are available from the counter," replied Hurley abruptly.
Wade sighed. Perhaps working here again wasn't such a great idea. Working with Hurley for several weeks wasn't a prospect she relished. But she needed a job, and at least he'd given her an application form.
Remmy trudged wearily the last few blocks to his agent's offices on this Earth. "Wish he'd move somewhere closer to the park," muttered Remmy, missing his cadillac again. "Maybe I'll suggest it." Remmy considered for a moment, then thought, "'course, if Q-ball could move the gizmo a little bit nearer here..." Then he saw what remained of his agent's office block.
Instead of his agent's usual offices, there now stood about 10 foot of rubble. Remmy couldn't believe his eyes, the whole thing was gone. For a few minutes he simply stood in front of the empty lot, staring at it. Then he sighed, and turned back around the way he'd come. "Figures," he grumbled, "world where I have the chance to enjoy my position and it's taken away from me. Man, I wish I knew who it was I pissed off." Remmy trudged back towards the centre of San Francisco his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched miserably. "Well, whatever Q-ball says, I ain't sellin' ice cream again."
Finally, Max found the appropriate secretary and enquired about the possibility of a temporary position. She seemed overjoyed, apparently they had been having trouble with staff shortages recently, and soon Max was ushered into a nearby office for an interview.
The lecturer, who Max vaguely recognised but couldn't really place, was engrossed in reading a paper as Max entered. He held out a hand to offer Max a seat.
"Won't be a moment, brilliant theories this fellow."
Max nodded and sat down to wait, not wanting to ruin any chances of working in his chosen profession for however brief a time. Thinking of the alternatives, he shuddered to remember some of the more menial tasks he had been forced to endure in recent months.
The lecturer finally finished reading ad turned his attention to Max. "Ah, I'm Professor Thomas Wielding." He stood up and offered his hand to Max.
Max got up to shake his hand, "Professor Maximillian Arturo."
Professor Wielding's mouth dropped, and he turned an unhealthy shade of white.
"Are you all right, my good fellow?" inquired Max.
"You can't be seen here. You must go. I'm afraid the post is no longer available," breathed Professor Wielding, obviously in a mild state of shock.
"What!"
"I... I'll have to call security," he stammered.
Max rolled his eyes, visions of sorting mail passing through his head. "Blistering idiot," he muttered under his breath, walking back into the hallway and out of the building.
Back in his office, Professor Wielding pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow, then lifted the telephone receiver and began to dial frantically.
Phew, thought Wade, finished. Triumphantly, she took the completed forms and handed them back to Hurley. Hurley gazed at the forms for several long seconds, then disappeared into the back of the building. He reappeared about 10 minutes later.
"Miss Wells. I'm afraid your application has been rejected." Hurley seemed just a little too happy for Wade's liking.
"What? Why?" demanded Wade.
"You're not eligible," he replied, "so go away and stop wasting my time."
Wade sighed, perhaps this world wasn't as close to home as she'd thought. Although she had to admit that Hurley seemed to be himself all right. Knowing that there was no way Hurley would change his mind, Wade left the store, dejected.
Quinn had more luck. He managed to land a job as a waiter in a small Italian restaurant. The pay was lousy, and the job wasn't much better, but at least they hadn't asked too many awkward questions. As he set about taking orders and delivering food, Quinn began to relax. Somehow doing something so completely ordinary was just what he needed. He almost felt as if he could successfully blend in without any trouble on this world, when a young waitress came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey," she said.
"Umm," Quinn grunted noncommittally.
"Are you related to THE Quinn Mallory?"
"Uh...." Quinn began, searching for the appropriate response. "I..."
Fortunately he was saved by the head waiter, who seemed to think that that particular waitress spent far too much time gossiping as it was. Nonetheless, Quinn's feeling of safety had utterly disappeared. He was as on edge as ever, half expecting a mutant beast to appear from round the corner, enter the restaurant and gun him down for no reason.
Remmy knew he would have to find some odd job to keep them all going soon, but just then he couldn't bear it. Once again his hopes had been smashed. He still had a few dollars in his pocket, so he decided to buy lunch and work up to job hunting. It was bound to look better on a full stomach.
It didn't take long for Rembrandt to find a bar which served food. Happy, he entered and began to study the menu. He soon discovered one of the differences on this world. Here they served drugs over the counter. Even then Rembrandt didn't think much of it, it wasn't until he noticed the name of the bar as he left that he began to worry.
The sign read, "2956 Yeoman Bar."
"Oh man" said Remmy to no one in particular, "I know that name from someplace." He didn't take long to remember that near-death experience, even though it was now nearly two years ago. Remmy shuddered, he just had a bad feeling about being back on that Earth.
Remmy was feeling quite proud of himself as he set off to further investigate. Without any input from the brains, he'd realised where they might be and was already well on his way to confirming his suspicions. He entered San Francisco Community Church.
"Hey Reverend, how're ya doin'?" Remmy recognised the Reverend.
"Hello. How're you doing, son?" The Reverend gave no indication that he had recognised Rembrandt at all.
"Fine thanks, reverend," replied Remmy, suddenly at a loss for words.
"Can I help you?" asked the Reverend.
"Uh. No, I don't think so, Reverend. I just kinda need to be here, work some things out."
The Reverend nodded and moved away quietly.
Remmy sat down in the familiar church, still unsure of which world this might be. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't the world that nearly got hit by a passing asteroid. Even if it was it shouldn't matter now. But he couldn't shake off a disturbing feeling that perhaps he was missing something and trouble was coming.
He chuckled quietly, where the Sliders landed there was nearly always trouble, why worry about it in advance. Then his laugh caught in his throat as Caroline walked into the church.
Caroline Fontaine. Now if she remembered him, that would be proof. He stood up.
"Caroline?"
She turned and looked at him. There was no sign of recognition. Relieved but slightly disappointed, Remmy went to sit down again.
"Sorry I must've mistook you for somebody else," he muttered.
"Rembrandt?" Caroline finally remembered him. "Is that really you?"
"It's me, in the flesh," grinned Rembrandt, for the moment forgetting his misgivings about this cursed world.
"How're you?" he asked.
She swallowed, apparently not wanting to remember what'd happened since that night.
"I'm sorry," said Remmy, realising she might not want to talk to him about it.
"No, that's OK. The Reverend says I should talk about it," she smiled faintly. "It was hard. I suppose it was hard everywhere." She looked at Remmy, expecting him to have similar tales.
Remmy laughed slightly, "girl, you have no idea."
"I divorced Adam," she said flatly.
Remmy put his arm round her shoulder. "Tell you what, how about going out for dinner tonight?" he asked smoothly. "For old time's sake."
"I'd like that," she smiled more broadly.
"Seven here?" suggested Remmy.
"Seven? We'll never have time. Better make it six," she replied.
"Six then," agreed Remmy, puzzled.
Max and Wade arrived back at the hotel almost simultaneously, each one disappointed by their lack of success.
"How did you get on, Professor?"
"Unfortunately they don't appear to want a professor of physics such as myself at the university," replied Max, still trying to work it out himself. "How about you Miss Wells?"
Wade shook her head. "Hurley finally got what he always wanted he just didn't know it yet on this world."
"And that is?"
"He got rid of me" said Wade, he anger growing the more she thought about it.
Max patted her shoulder. "Not to worry, Miss Wells. Plenty more jobs to be found. But first, how about I treat you to lunch, cheer us up?"
Wade smiled up at him, "yeah. Thanks Max."
They found a small, pleasant restaurant and sat comfortably in silence for a while, each deep in their own thoughts. It was Max who finally broke the silence.
"Miss Wells, see if you can shed any light on my experience this morning. Perhaps there's something I'm missing," he began.
"Mmm?" Wade looked up, her mouth full.
"It seems I caused quite a disturbance at the university today. For some reason a student asked for my autograph then ran away. And then a highly distinguished lecturer had some form of panic attack when I told him my name."
"Weird," said Wade.
"My thoughts exactly. This Earth seems so ordinary, and however deceptive appearances can sometimes be, I fail to see how I could have such an effect on two perfectly sane individuals. Most peculiar."
Wade sniffed the air then said teasingly, "well I don't think it's your deodorant!"
"Thank you. It's best to eliminate every possibility," smiled Max. "However, I think the best course of action at this time would be a trip to the public library." He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Yeah, sure. I'll visit the library. I don't think I can face looking for another job yet anyway. I just hope Quinn and Remmy don't mind."
"My dear, it is essential that we establish precisely what we are dealing with here before we make another, possibly futile, attempt to find work. We have to know what we're up against."
"Agreed," replied Wade.
Despite his nervousness after the girl asked him if he was THE Quinn, Quinn managed to keep enough of his mind on his job to avoid any reprimands. With a lack of any further incidents, Quinn began to hope that perhaps, just for once, they might be able to stay out of trouble. Then his eyes were drawn to a poster opposite the bathroom. There, large as life, was a photofit picture of the Professor. Underneath were the words, "Max. Wanted by the government. Large reward." Quinn swallowed, wondering what the Professor's double might have done on this Earth.
The waitress who had unnerved him earlier saw him staring at the poster.
"Well you can't be THE Mallory then. I'm sure he's in league with Max," she said.
"Errr," Quinn had no idea how to respond. "What did he do?"
"You're kidding me? You don't know what he did? Where have you been? He's a British spy, he tried to overthrow the government..." She looked up at his blank expression. "You don't remember? Who are you?"
"I..."
"... hey!" Once again, Quinn was saved by the head waiter. But after seeing the poster he was desperate to leave. He had to warn the others. He could already be too late, he thought, but he pushed that thought from his mind. He had to make it.
Max and Wade found out more than they ever expected to at the library. While Max studied some books and newspapers on the recent history of this world, Wade surfed the internet for any useful sites. Their results were surprisingly different. Wade found that certain countries were unavailable on the web, she tried several times once she had realised, but apparently they simply didn't exist. She also found a huge amount of propaganda about other countries, sometimes including those which seemed absent, so they obviously still existed.
Max, however, found some more useful if still seriously biased, information from recent newspapers.
Finally, Wade grew bored of reading the same thing over and over again, so she left the computer to join Max.
"How're you getting on Max?" she whispered.
"It seems, Miss Wells, that we have arrived in a dimension where an asteroid almost hit the Earth approximately 3 years ago."
Wade's jaw dropped. "Let me see."
"And Bennish did rather better for himself on here, look." He indicated another newspaper dated roughly 2 years ago.
"Bennish became President?" Wade couldn't believe it. She almost forgot to explain to Max about the bomb. About what had happened. Quickly, she remembered and gave him a summary of events as she recalled them.
"What!" he almost shouted. "I did what?"
Wade nodded, hoping he would calm down. He was beginning to attract attention. "Come on, we've got to go." She tugged at his arm, whispering, "it really wasn't your fault. You saved the entire world, and you even tried to avert Bennish's ambitions."
"Will you stop that! It wasn't me, it was him. And he obviously didn't try hard enough," stormed Max.
"Come on, the others are probably back at the hotel by now. We'd better get back."
"We have to do something about this. I don't care if we're interfering, we have to try. In a manner of speaking I am to blame for this mess. I would have done the same thing in his position. I must rectify it."
"OK, but not now Max. We've got ages, and you're beginning to attract attention."
He nodded, and finally stood up to follow her, adding, "it's certainly the best evidence we've seen so far against interfering with the worlds we visit."
Wade looked a little guilty at that, Max noticed her glance down at the floor. "That's not always true, Max. And it's certainly not true here. Sometimes we do make things better."
"Do we? I begin to wonder. It seems clear that with the best intentions you failed to change this world for the better."
Remmy and Caroline went to a quiet restaurant of Caroline's choosing. It was enjoyable, and Remmy found the company relaxing and pleasant. In fact, Remmy began to feel as though perhaps he had been wrong about landing on this world. He felt as though he had run into an old friend, despite only having known Caroline for a day or so in particularly bizarre circumstances. As he reflected on the night of their meeting, and her party, it occurred to him that perhaps a very quiet evening out wasn't completely her style.
"So, the evening is still young. Are there any good nightclubs round here?" Remmy asked. "You dance pretty well, girl."
Caroline looked puzzled. "Where are you from, Rembrandt?"
"Err," Remmy tried to think fast, "Canada."
"Canada! How did you get into the US?" gasped Caroline. "I thought the borders were all closed."
"Well, I errr, travel a lot. Probably didn't come in direct."
"Sure." Caroline looked highly sceptical. "You accidentally got into the country that won't let anyone in, and you know nothing about what's been going on."
"That's right." Remmy didn't like the way this conversation was going.
"Where are you really from?"
"You're not gonna believe me. Best to just leave that alone. Just explain what's been goin' on, girl. I'm starting to get nervous."
"You really don't know, do you?"
"What do you think I've been saying?" Remmy tried to think what might be going on, horrible images flashing through his mind. Most of them were life threatening.
"Shh! Not so loudly." Caroline started to look nervous now, looking round at the few other people in the restaurant.
"What?"
"Come on, we've got to go." Caroline pulled Remmy up, trying to hurry him up. "We don't have much time anyway."
"Time for what?"
"Time until curfew. Come on!"
"What!" This was far worse than Remmy had imagined. Martial law and people watching your every move. Definitely a bad sign. He wondered how the four of them were going to manage to lay low for their 6 week stay. He thought about the Professor's tendency to let his temper get the better of him, and both Quinn and Wade's capacity for getting all of them into trouble.
"Oh man," Remmy groaned. "We're in real trouble now." Remembering that he wasn't alone, Remmy looked at Caroline, who now drove the two of them back to her place. She seemed to be taking it all in her stride quite well, but then he hadn't explained where he was from yet, and she was bound to ask again. He decided to worry about that when he came to it, the first thing had to be to call the others.
When Quinn finally got off work he raced back to the hotel, praying that the others would be there before him. There was no one there. He could see signs that someone had been back there since they had left that morning, but no one was around now and no one had left a note. Quinn sighed, hoping that they weren't already in trouble.
He'd just decided to take a shower and try to relax a little when the phone rang. It was Remmy.
"Remmy! Where are you? I found out..."
"Shh, Q-ball." Remmy shut Quinn up.
"What?"
"Listen Q-ball. Don't go out, I can't explain now, but they're under martial law and you'll get arrested. Stay where you are. I'll be back in the morning." With that Remmy hung up.
Quinn stared at the phone for a few moments, trying to give the call an element of reality, but the words wouldn't sink in. He glanced at his watch. It was approaching 7.30 and Remmy sounded serious about not going out, so where were Wade and Max?
Maybe the curfew didn't start til 8, maybe they'd get back in time. It was certainly unusual for them to disappear for so long without either of them leaving a message.
Quinn began to pace nervously. 7.32.
Quinn glanced at the clock, it said 7.35 his watch was slow. He peered out of the window and his heart sank as he saw how deserted the streets were. If Max and Wade were going to make it back they'd have to come soon. 7.38.
"How could they fail to notice the streets being empty?" he muttered to himself, beginning to pace again. 7.41.
Then he remembered his reason for rushing back. That poster of the Professor. If the Professor was that famous then he could so easily have been captured. Quinn gave up pacing and grabbed his coat. He had to do something. He had to look for them. 7.45. He shot out of the door and downstairs only to be confronted by a particularly mean looking guy with a machine gun at the main entrance.
"No one leaves the hotel, curfew," he announced as if he was some sort of robot.
Reluctantly, Quinn returned to the room before the guard, or whatever he was, could take things any further. 7.51.
On re-entering their room, Quinn decided that the only thing to be done was to watch the TV and find out if there was anything on the news. If the Professor was that famous and he'd been captured, surely it'd be mentioned.
Quinn sat down heavily on one of the beds and flipped on the television. 7.53.
"And today's headline news. The British spy Max has once again been sighted on these shores." The announcer shuffled some papers decisively before explaining. "After the confirmed sighting of Max today, the police are urging citizens to avoid approaching this man, he is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him DO NOT attempt to bring him in yourself. Notify the authorities, any sighting which leads to his capture is worth a substantial reward. More after these messages." The adverts began.
Quinn looked at his watch again, 8.02, they were definitely late now. Although if he had admitted it to himself, they were late before anyway. At least the announcer hadn't said anything about "Max's" capture.
The adverts ended, and the announcer returned. "Today, after the announcement of sightings of Max, returned from Great Britain after all this time, our reporter went over to London to investigate the situation there. Over to you, Phil."
The reporter appeared on screen in a dark stormy London, stood in front of Big Ben. "Hi. After today's sighting of Max, I came over here to establish the precise political climate on this tiny, desolate island. All around me in this cold, wet atmosphere there are the desperate and the homeless. Stuck in this country with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The question is, does the government care? Earlier, I spoke to Prime Minister John Prescott."
"So, Mr Prescott. Since arriving here, I've noticed the unusual number of homeless on the streets. What is your government doing to rectify this?"
"You came all the way over 'ere to ask me that?" asked John Prescott in his thick Lancashire accent.
"It's important, don't you think?" replied the reporter.
"We will do whatever it takes to get our homeless off the streets."
"How come there are so many?"
"Inner cities tend to have a larger homeless population. They come in hoping for something better, then discover that everything costs more and there's still no jobs available. But we are fighting to create more jobs."
The camera cut back to the reporter by himself. "Well, I think we can all be grateful that life is so much more civilised back in the states. But I doubt very much that that is why Max has chosen to return. So why is it that this British spy wanted in connection with the murder of a number of American citizens, and an attempt to overthrow the American government itself, would return to our country? I spoke today to Dame Margaret Thatcher."
The reporter's voice disappeared behind the camera, and the scene changed. London in a steady drizzle was replaced by Margaret Thatcher in a lavishly furnished office.
"Lady Thatcher. Why do you think Max has chosen this time to return to America?"
"We must get what we want. Fight for our survival."
The picture returned to the, now drenched, reporter in front of Big Ben. He didn't say anything more, simply raised an eyebrow.
The announcer cut in, "so, Phil, how do you think the British are coping with their current crisis?"
"It's been hard over here, with their growing division within the European union, and the imminent failure of the peace process in Ireland, combined with a growing push for independence from the Scottish and the Welsh, this country is in real trouble."
"So do you think they pose any threat to us? Is Max's presence their doing?"
"I don't think that we can blame the government itself. But John Prescott is an inexperienced Prime Minister, and with the growing pressure from all sides, I suspect that he is under someone else's influence. As to any threats from Max, we can only speculate at this time, but we have seen the evidence. The British government is supporting a corrupt and unjust system. While the masses freeze out here in cardboard boxes in the rain, the rich elite enjoy their high standard of living." As the reporter rounded off, a picture of Buckingham Palace flashed up. "Are they trying to reclaim their one-time colony?"
Quinn couldn't stand anymore he pressed the remote and thankfully the TV turned off first time. He sighed with relief at the silence, and flopped back onto the bed. 8.19. He couldn't believe Max and Wade were this late. For a few minutes he lay back and stared at the ceiling blankly, trying not to imagine anything awful happening. Then his agitation got the better of him and he began to pace the room again, trying to think of something he could do. 8.32.
Finally he had an idea, in fact he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. He got out the phone directory and began to phone round the local hospitals and police stations for any sign of Wade. Obviously looking for Max would be impossible, but it was just possible that Wade wasn't with him, and at least he felt like he might accomplish something.
Several hours later Quinn was incredibly tired, even more worried, and no closer to finding the whereabouts of either Wade or Max. He felt as though it was all his fault, that maybe somehow he could've got to them in time to warn them. Or better still never taken them with him in the first place. At least Rembrandt was OK. For now.
Quinn looked at his watch gain. 11.13. He supposed he ought to get some sleep, but with the lack of any noise of the others in their little hotel room, he simply stared at the ceiling, more and more aware of their absence. The silence of the streets outside simply served as another reminder. 11.20. Quinn stared mindlessly into the blackness, trying not to think of anything. It was impossible.
With a sigh, Quinn sat up in bed and turned the TV back on. This time there was a chat show on.
"So, what do you, the American public, think about Max's return?"
They work fast, thought Quinn. The Professor's everywhere. He changed channel. Another report on "Max's" reappearance. The next channel had a phone in with some sort of shrink for people who, through no fault of their own, found themselves doubting the government. Quinn groaned and continued to flick through the channels until he finally discovered an old war film. Relieved to see something which wasn't determined to make him completely paranoid, and simultaneously remind him of how powerless he was to help Wade and Max, Quinn half watched. He still couldn't sleep, he was too worried. A couple of times he got out of bed and checked to main entrance again, but it was no good, the guard was still outside the hotel. He tried the window, but it was no good. If he left he'd be caught immediately. They were at least 4 hours late now. Where could they be? Why didn't they call him? Finally he fell asleep holding the phone, waiting for someone to call him and tell him that everything was all right.
The phone was silent.
On to part 2 .......