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Nick said, his voice quiet, “is what if, without NovusPart, those bones were meant to have been found by someone else. By taking them from the shipwreck, aren’t you altering the timeline? Something you claim not to be doing?”
    “Good question,” said Whelan. He smiled again, seeming to relax. “And you’re right; it’s one of the reasons we employed Professor Samson. Basically put, our priority is to eliminate potential changes to the past as per the UN mandate. The present, like the future, can take care of itself.”
    “A philosophy that justified saving the passengers of Flight 391?”
    Whelan nodded, but didn’t reply straight away. Instead, he allowed a waiter to clear his plate. Even though he hadn’t touched his food, Nick leant back so his own plate could be taken.
    “Most of those passengers are now living productive lives,” Whelan said. “That’s something the press likes to ignore.”
    Nick nodded, feeling his throat tighten. How far could he push it? He tried to swallow. His father wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t take the opportunity to press home at least a few points. “Some of them committed suicide,” he said, softly.
    Whelan stopped, and took a slow sip of wine. “Which is why we haven’t done anything like that again,” he said. “Dislocation from the past to the present is too much for some people. They couldn’t cope with a world that had moved on by fifty years. All the small things we take for granted such a short time after they’re invented. We know we made some mistakes with Flight 391 – but we also learned valuable lessons. And the important thing remains that the timeline isn’t threatened, because all events between their transportation and the day they arrived are unaffected. It’s the same with the Peking Man.”
    “But…”
    “We’re aware that some people, like your father, would prefer this power not to be left in the private sector. And we’re aware what we’ve been doing is controversial, as it poses certain… questions.”
    From beside him, McMahon growled. “It’s a little bit rich to be criticised every day for
not
saving someone’s relative.”
    Again, Nick nodded. Because if you could pull people from an aircraft just moments before it crashed, why not save everyone who died in such disasters? Thousands of survivors, all without any potential paradox. And if you could snatch people from disasters, what was stopping you from taking people off the street? Just like Ronnie kept banging on about. Just like he was trying to prove last night. “As I said, I’m not a big fan of conspiracy theories.”
    Whelan smiled. “Well, good, Mr Houghton. Because we want to discuss our latest project with you.”

9
    W HELAN LEANT BACK and took a large mouthful of wine. For a second, the restaurant lights picked out the few flecks of grey in his hair. “It’s something Harold and I feel everyone will be able to get behind,” he said. “A truly spectacular demonstration of our technology.”
    Nick felt himself tense. This was the point of the meeting, he could sense it. This was the reason he’d signed the non-disclosure agreement. Everything up to this point was probably fair game. Something to tell Ronnie. Something he could maybe even admit to his father.
    “We’ve created a unique research environment.”
    Nick’s mind blanked. “What do you mean, ‘unique’?”
    “A replica historical setting – to avoid the problem of dislocation.”
    For a long time, Nick didn’t say anything. Finally, he turned to face McMahon. “But after Flight 391 – we were told there’d be no more human transportations.”
    McMahon didn’t reply. He just turned an indifferent eye to his colleague. Whelan leant forward. “We have a special dispensation. It’s a sort of
pro bono publico
spin-off from our other activities. Something that academics can use to talk to people from the past and to answer… points of interest.”
    Whelan paused as the waiters