Out of Time Read Online Free

this, punctuated by comments in the margin by Mr Woodforde that seemed to be little jokes he was making with himself, like ‘pause for gasps of wonder’ next to the second paragraph and ‘beware of overkill’. James read the margin comments and the first two paragraphs of the text, but even those he did not understand. The article stopped abruptly, apparently in the middle of a paragraph, on the fourth page.
    James sighed, put the notes aside, and picked up the machine. It did not look like a machine but he did not know what else to call it. He started to press in numbers again, and although he kept doing so until he was too tired to continue, he had no success. Nothing seemed to happen.
    *
    IN THE MORNING while James was passing the window to reach his wardrobe, he became dimly aware of a faint clamour across the square. He stopped and looked out. He saw a sight that, for him, was unprecedented. People were coming in and out of Lab 17. As he watched, two security officers came out of the lab and walked towards the main Administration building. On their way they passed a woman in a white coat, someone whom James hadn’t seen before. A few minutes later, a grey station wagon backed in near the lab.
    James’ first instinct was to rush into his clothes and leave the house to insinuate himself in whatever was happening. But his second thoughts were wiser. He realised that he had to keep away from Lab 17. Any appearance he made there now might cause someone to make connections. The sight of him in the area might trigger off a series of speculations: ‘He’s been around here a few times, hasn’t he?. . . I think he even went into the lab occasionally. . . Woodforde was pretty good with him, didn’t mind him hanging around. . . wonder if he’s been in there since Woodforde died? Shouldn’t there have been more of Woodforde’s work in that lab?. . . Grab that kid for a sec, ask him a few questions. He understands what you say to him well enough. . .’
    James stayed where he was. He kept watching. Nothing much happened for quite a time. Just before lunch, a stretcher with a covered body-shape on it was carried out and loaded into the station wagon. A few passers-by glanced at it with curiosity but kept walking. The station wagon drove away.
    James went downstairs to get some lunch, then returned to his room, stuffed the device in his pocket, and left the house. He went to the entrance of the complex, passed through the security barriers, went past the big white sign saying ‘Between 1800 and 0900 all vehicles must use Gate 3’, and through the line of pine trees into the Toyne Paddock.
    It was not an attractive paddock. It was on the road to the tip, so plastic bags and sheets of newspaper were always scattered across it, flitting towards other destinations. The field was bare and clodded, with scruffy patches of grass. James squatted near the middle of the field, behind a mound of earth that provided a windbreak. With some difficulty he extricated the machine from his pocket and sat looking at it. He had tried, he thought, every possible variation, with no result. Perhaps after all Mr Woodforde had been old and stupid and had been wrong about the whole thing.
    A large piece of paper blew towards him, almost into his face. Suddenly James’ mind cleared. He remembered the sign at the entrance to the Centre. ‘Between 1800 and 0900. . .’ Wasn’t it likely that Mr Woodforde would use military time? Feverishly he started pushing numbers into the calculator. . . 150° 50’ 51”, 34° 15’ 21”. . . Again he paused at the date, finally resolving on the compromise of a zero in front of the month, but no century in front of the year. And then the time, going back four minutes, and pressing 1327. And, with mouth as dry as corn chips, he pressed ‘Enter’.
    Still nothing. He started again,