Chapter 10: Dimitri

On board the Silver Blaze, Layton and Luke listened as Future Luke described Bill Hawks to them - the former prime minister who had suddenly resigned from his post without explanation.

"You say my alternate self has a grudge against him?" said Layton. "Whatever for?"

"Wish I knew," said Future Luke. "But even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. It might affect your timeline if you knew. Some things are better left undiscovered, Professor."

"Gosh," said Luke, "so you really did send that letter to me, then? Telling us to meet you at the Zoo?"

"Yes, of course," said Future Luke. "It was a little unorthodox, but we thought of using the Zoo as a point of reference for our wormhole. The Zoo is one of the few places in London that Layton hasn't changed. Unfortunately Dimitri caught wind of the plan and tried to sabotage your trip through time with his own temporal field.

"As if that wasn't bad enough, Polly – or whoever's controlling Polly – also decided to intervene, with the result that you both went backwards in time ten years instead. We were eventually able to stabilise your position and bring you forward to our time as planned. But Flora ended up in a different point in space, and she arrived two weeks before you did. Considering she could have appeared anywhere in the universe, it's a miracle she appeared in London at all."

"And where is Flora now?" said Layton, who sounded like he was dreading the answer.

"She had been captured by my Layton, but I sent someone to rescue her. We'll see her when we arrive at the base... which shouldn't be too long now."

As if on cue, Emmy's voice sounded on the PA system. "This is the pilot speaking. We're about to make our descent. Please ensure that your belongings are fully secure and that you are all seated. With seatbelts on tight. That means you, Luke Triton. Don't bother trying to get away with not putting away your things properly, because I will know."

"Heh, I have a bit of a reputation for forgetting to store things away," said Future Luke, bending down to gather his belongings. "At least I'm not as bad as you, Professor."

"Quite," said Layton.

Polly sat on one of the lab tables, having several wires attached to him, which were in turn connected both to a computer and to a large, cylindrical machine with metal coils within its centre. A scientist called Bill had taken over from Horace, a grumpy man with small-rimmed glasses. He was waving some kind of small, bleeping device over him.

The parrot jerked his head back and forth, finding it very difficult to relax. Being attached to all this equipment reminded him of a darker time, an old memory from a forgotten timeline, of electric shocks and excruciating pain and blackouts.

"Keep still, you feathered rat," Bill hissed.

Polly kept fidgeting. "JUST LIKE DIMITRI, YOU ARE," he said.

"You did not just say that," said Bill, teeth grinding while he seethed with barely controlled rage. Apparently he had taken great offense at the comparison. "I am ten times the scientist he ever was."

"I DID JUST SAY THAT," said Polly relentlessly. "DIMITRI. DIMITRI. YOU ARE DIMITRI."

"Right, that's it, you miserable little creature! Mind control for you!"

Polly wrenched himself away from the computer, snapping the wires; once free, he flew high into the air, flapping hard, until he reached a ledge near the ceiling, far from where the horrible scientist could reach him.

"Come back down here at once!"

"DIMITRI, DIMITRI!" screeched Polly.

At this point another scientist entered the lab, and Polly looked down to see who it was. It was Horace. Thank goodness. Polly liked him, at least. He was kind, and he had food. He knew how to deal with parrots. Unfortunately, Horace had been too busy with the time machine to spend much time with him.

"What on earth's going on?" said Horace. "What's all this about Dimitri?"

"DIMITRI!"

"What happened?" said Horace, frowning when he saw where Polly was. "Why is Polly all the way up there?"

"Bloody parrot's being uncooperative," Bill grumbled, folding his arms.

Horace raised an eyebrow. "I bet you antagonised him. Luke's orders were to treat him kindly."

"Oh, sod Luke!" snapped Bill. "I'm fed up of taking orders from that namby-pamby!"

Horace sighed, putting a hand on his head. "He's just a parrot, Bill... No need to get so fired up."

What? thought Polly, feeling insulted. Just a parrot? He'd show them. He was no ordinary parrot!

Bringing forth all the memories he could muster from the other timeline, he squawked to get the two scientists' attention, and then said:

"A PHOTON IS A PARTICLE OF ELECTROMAGNETIC ENERGY, WITH ZERO MASS AND NO ELECTRIC CHARGE. AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT, IT TRAVELS. POSSIBLE TO CREATE WORMHOLE IN FOURTH DIMENSION, IT IS, BY USING ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION TO ENLARGE ALREADY NATURALLY OCCURRING IMPERFECTIONS IN SPACE-TIME. TO ESTABLISH A NEW POINT IN SPACE-TIME, HUMAN THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES ARE USED."

"How could you possibly know this?" said Bill, flabbergasted.

"DIMITRI," said Polly.

[ - Hidden Memory #8 - ]

Time.

In the end, that's what it had all come down to.

Time.

Dimitri had dedicated his entire life to researching the many properties of Time. He wanted to know how the universe worked, why the atoms spun, why the gravitational forces worked the way they did. How could he use this knowledge to help people? Could he save lives? Extinguish world hunger? Such idealistic thoughts he had once possessed with a youthful passion were ones he used to have before his view on the world had turned so sour.

He stared down at the bar table, remembering his grandfather. He had passed away peacefully now, but while he was still alive and physically active, he had been a master clockmaker. The old man had been one of those permanently good-humoured people who was always smiling no matter how dire the situation, and what he lacked in height he certainly made up for in character. He had been often brought in to examine the clocks within the Palace of Westminster, which of course included London's most famous Clock Tower, otherwise known as Big Ben.

As a boy, Dimitri had often sat in the workshop watching in awe, as his grandfather tinkered with tiny gears using gentle, yet swift precision. He could recall the intricate instruments and tools that the elderly clock craftsman used, and he remembered, too, the godawful jokes that sprung forth from time to time, like, "Why did the woman smash her clock? Because she was killing time," and "Why did the lawyer sit on his watch? Because he wanted to be on time."

But what exactly WAS time?

Fast forward a good twenty years, and Dimitri had been taken on as a temporal physicist at the Institute of Polydimensional Research. Bill's field of expertise was with particle physics; and Claire, meanwhile, was well-versed in astrophysics. During the course of her independent study, she had proven the existence of universes outside their own, making her input valuable.

The objective of the project was to design and build the world's first time machine. And it was possible. Dimitri knew it could be done, at least in theory. The trouble was how to build something in the real world that, in theory, required an infinite amount of energy to work - and so that was how the research and experimenting began.

Things started off well enough. Although, in retrospect, they really should have chosen a less residential area, since the neighbours occasionally complained about odd experiences, such as disappearing objects, and minor instances of déjà vu that were more than just déjà vu. Of course, it only took one idiot to completely screw things up...

Bill... well, he was an accomplished scientist, there was no doubt about that, but in the aftermath of the accident it became painfully clear that he'd never followed the sciences to better all of humanity - not unless all of humanity happened to comprise himself. Without any regards to the risks involved, Bill had prematurely tried to open a live time travel wormhole, in the hopes of testing the energy source that could fuel such an operation. The end intention, of course, was to sell the energy source for an insane amount of money. Why Claire had volunteered to be the test subject, Dimitri still didn't know. He would likely never know. He didn't want to know. To think about her, and what she wanted to accomplish... it reminded him too much of that day.

That day...

...he had run and run, his lungs had been on fire...

...almost tripped on the stairs as he dashed up three steps at a time...

...had arrived at the lab too late...

...her face, never before so pale...

No.

He shook his head.

He was not going to think about that dreadful day. Not again. Not this time.

He took another gulp of beer, taking note of the concerned eyebrow raise of the barman behind the counter.

Oh, he thought. Now, there was another depressing thing to add to the list.

Com Links.

When Hershel had initially brought the design for mind control to him, Dimitri had seen the Com Links as necessary, simply because he didn't have any faith in the scientific community nor in the politics system, not after Bill had managed to weasel his way to the top. Any proposals for research into time travel would have been cut short before they'd even had a chance to leave the idea stage, and this was assuming he could keep such a plan hidden from Bill's watchful eyes.

Still, he didn't enjoy the idea of controlling a person's mind. In fact, he hated it with a passion. The very thought made him shudder. Every time he saw a person under the Com Link's influence - which was pretty much all the time - he had to remind himself why he was doing all this. He had to repeat to himself that he was only doing it all not just for Claire's sake but for the sake of saving humanity as a whole. He was too far along, now, anyway. No point in turning back now, not when he'd made so much progress.

He made sure that the effects of the Link system were not permanently damaging, and that the subject kept as much of their own personality and free will in every other area as possible, though he knew that Hershel had made his own adjustments on a few of the devices.

Hershel… he thought suddenly.

There was a complicated man.

Dimitri simply hadn't foreseen Hershel shattering like glass when he'd delivered the news that Bill had been responsible for Claire's death. He had initially gone to Hershel for help in making a case against Bill. And he'd been expecting an extreme reaction – sorrow, anger - Dimitri himself had gone through the exact same thing, after all.

But Hershel's anger was not an irrational, brief minute of hot fiery rage. Instead, it was a cool, long-lasting, machinating anger, stewing on how to out-sneak a slippery snake like Bill. How to hit him where it hurt the most. Dimitri had approved… at least, at first. If anyone could beat Bill at his own game, it was Hershel Layton.

Five years on, they had struck, swift and precise, like the clockmaker, and removed Bill from power. Somehow Dimitri didn't feel as vindicated as he thought he would be. But what other choice had there been? The system was corrupt. Bill would have found a way to slither out of his crimes if they'd gone the honest route and approached the police.

That was his rationale, anyway. He hadn't done a very good job of convincing himself so far. Hence the empty glasses all over the table.

Speak of the devil...!

Dimitri didn't move one bit when he saw Hershel coming in through the entrance. As a general rule, Hershel didn't swagger, but there was definitely a self-satisfied air about him, and he strode in confidently, ordering people about as if he owned the place. Well, he was Prime Minister now, and this pub was completely under their control, so there was a bit of logic behind the self-assuredness there. Even so, Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to share his colleague's enthusiasm, giving a half-hearted greeting in response to the one that he received.

Hershel sat down opposite him, and leaned forward on the table.

"Something's troubling you," he said.

Dimitri cast his eyes deliberately down towards the empty glasses in front of him and then stared back with a deadpan expression. "You're a genius, Hershel."

There was a double irony in that exchange, in that Hershel's genius mind troubled Dimitri very much. That inventiveness teetered somewhere between pure brilliance and absolute insanity. How could you just walk into a room and build a working vehicle from the room's contents as if putting together some kind of Lego set? That's not how physics worked!

Hershel made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. "Yes, I suppose I walked straight into that one. Perhaps I should be more direct and ask why it is you're sitting in an East End pub drowning your sorrows away on a Thursday afternoon. It's most unlike you, I must say."

Dimitri glanced away, frowning. "Did you have to kill his wife?"

"Oh, my... Found out about that, did you?"

Well, wasn't he being an arrogant so-and-so today? He wasn't even bothering to deny it.

And here was where the teetering mind came to a violent crash on the insane side of the spectrum. Hershel's need to make sense out of everything in the world had extended to trying to fit people into a carefully constructed jigsaw, which in turn had manifested itself as an ugly desire to control absolutely everything. It was as if Insanity had taken Hershel's mind out for a joyride and had kicked out Compassion and Moral Ethics for being annoying "You can't do that!" backseat drivers.

Dimitri shook his head in disapproval. "I hate Bill as much as you do, but... Honestly. You should have kept her alive. He could still be trouble. You might as well just activate his Com Link permanently and be done with it."

"I'm surprised you didn't come with me the other night. You should have seen him when I revealed our plans. The look on his face was rather... satisfying."

"In my current state, I would probably have just... punched him in the face and left it at that."

"Really? After everything he's done? After everyone he's hurt?"

Dimitri shrugged. He did hate Bill, so very much. He hated Bill so much that earlier he'd just barely managed to stop himself from smashing an entire bottle into the wall, as well as smashing the chair just because it was there - stupid chair, how dare it stand there dispassionately and not be broken - after remembering how Bill had threatened him into silence.

Before Hershel had taken over as Prime Minister, he had been planning to order the police to rough Bill up a bit. See how he liked being on the receiving end of several kicks to the ribs and head for once! But-

But...

Taking a person's life was too much. It was too far. Dimitri just didn't have it in him to take that final step; it completely went against what little moral fibre he had left. And now that Caroline was dead, he didn't feel like doing anything to Bill at all. It seemed a bit pointless, now. He wasn't even sure why Hershel had sought him out today. They rarely saw each other in person because they got on each other's nerves too much. Hershel had too much of a controlling streak for Dimitri to be able to tolerate him for long stretches of time, so these days their interactions were restricted to radio transmissions. Video at a stretch.

"I'm no psychologist," he said, "but somewhere in that genius mind of yours you've lost the ability to empathise with your fellow human beings."

He would have found the tiny smile that came as the response disturbingly creepy, if he wasn't used to its appearance by now.

"You're simply soft. You've never really had that killer instinct, have you?"

"I consider this a strength. I did not pursue physics to figure out a way to destroy people's brains one atom at a time. Even Descole - for all his experiments exploring the depths of human minds and their memories - even he didn't go that far."

"So I suppose manipulating people's brains at the atomic level so that they obey your every command is all right, hmm? As long as they don't die?"

"Of course it isn't! Ugh!"

Dimitri put a hand on his head, and leaned his elbow on the table. Over the years he'd learned that the best way to deal with this was actually to not get angry; even so, he couldn't help but sigh in exasperation. It was, in a peculiar way, his fault that Hershel's behaviour was now so deplorable. If he hadn't approached him that day 6 years ago, they wouldn't be even having this conversation.

So that made this... what - number three? Number Three on the list of things that he wished hadn't happened but that he had had no choice but to follow through with. Along with Com Links and Bill's wife.

"What do you want, Hershel?" he growled, finally letting his impatience show. "As strange as it is that I'm sitting here, it's even stranger that you're here with me. As I recall, you're not much of a drinker either."

"I was just at the public unveiling of the brand new fusion station in Greenwich. I thought I'd stop by."

Dimitri tried very hard not to react too much to this comment. So, he thought, you came all the way from Greenwich just to "stop by" in a dingy pub in Whitechapel. Checking up on me had nothing to do with it.

He sat up straight, folded his arms, and gave Hershel a calm, steady look. "I am not giving up on my research. We have five years left, Hershel. Five. If I have to slap a brain-controlling device on every last person to save this planet from its own stupidity, then so be it."

Hershel nodded slowly, still with that small, deliberate smile. "That's... good to hear." His expression turned serious as he placed both elbows on the table and steepled his hands, clasping his fingers together.

"As I just said, I paid a visit to the new plant at Greenwich this morning. We will be able to begin amassing energy from there within the week. You mentioned a way to permanently affix Time? Those other space-times?"

"Yes. Once we have enough energy, we will be able to establish a connection, but... there's a slight paradox in that the laws of physics seem to break down there. We could try opening a wormhole on our end, but there's no guarantee that the wormhole on the other end will be stable. But, that kind of obstacle has never stopped me before. In fact, I see it as a fresh challenge. I shall figure it out in due course."

"Of this I have no doubt. Obviously it will be extraordinarily easy for me to openly endorse the construction of new plants. If there is anything else you require for your research, do not hesitate to let me know."

"Of course," said Dimitri, with a slight tilt of his head.

Hershel pushed his chair backwards, and stood up. "Well. Given that you seem to be having a crisis of conscience, it's probably for the best that I don't reveal to you what I have planned for Bill."

"Do what you will. There's little point in trying to deter you from your plans."

Hershel gave him a very grave look. "I have him imprisoned on a blimp, outside. It will be your last chance to speak to him, should you wish to do so."

So. Hershel was going to kill him. That twisted Dimitri's emotions round and round in a way he never thought possible, as though someone was using a giant corkscrew on his gut. His rage and hatred mixed with his inability to be able to take another human life. Like a drop of black ink in clear water, hatred slowly permeated through, the desire for revenge pervading all else...

...but Claire would never have approved of it. Of any of this.

"Wait. Before you go, let me talk to him first."

Hershel nodded. "I thought you might want to speak with him."

They left the pub, and Dimitri immediately noticed several airships looming overhead, large state-of-the-art Destroyers from the RAF. Odd, given that they should have had the area under their control. Hershel was certainly taking this seriously.

He spotted the smaller prison blimp in amongst the military aircraft, and frowned. What would he even say to Bill? It wasn't as if talking to him would change anything between them.

He turned his head upon hearing the sound of high heels clacking from further down the street. It was coming from a middle-aged woman, with tiny glasses set on a large pointed nose. Dimitri recognised her face, which was framed by brown, wavy hair. He'd definitely seen her somewhere before... But where? He couldn't remember.

She took one look at them both and… glared daggers.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear.

Not the correct response.

The few people that knew the truth about the Com Links were terrified of Hershel. If they didn't keep quiet in exchange for their own freedom, the Family would track them down and silence them permanently. Everyone else was conditioned to act normally in both Hershel's and his own presence, except when a direct order was issued. If she had just kept that nose of hers down and kept walking, she would have escaped their notice.

...Unless becoming angry was her normal reaction to Hershel. But that was still unusual, because anyone who didn't know the truth simply thought he was a fine, upstanding citizen.

Very suspicious.

"You... haven't Linked this woman, have you?" said Dimitri, silently hoping with all his heart that she would just turn around and go in the other direction. She didn't. She continued walking, on the other side of the road, now turning her head away to deliberately avoid looking at them.

"Obviously. She's been causing quite the stir in the press during the last couple of weeks." Hershel chuckled as if sharing a private joke. "Or, at least, she thinks she has."

The press. Hmm. Maybe he'd seen her on TV. "She can't possibly know what's really happened to Bill?"

"No, of course not," said Hershel. "She would not still have her free will if she did know."

"I don't understand why you insist on playing these games. If she finds out the truth-"

"Lorna Wilde is no threat to us. But you're right. Perhaps it is time I put her under our control."

"Good grief, that's not what I meant-"

Hershel cut across him and ordered a police officer to intercept her path. The officer did so, after which she turned back round to face them again; and now she was really fuming. Dimitri felt like Hershel was purposely poking an already enraged bee and making it even more determined to sting... except that this bee was heading straight for a spider's trap.

She jerked her elbow away from the police officer as she came towards them, adjusting her glasses and straightening a couple of creases in her dress when she came to a stop in front of them both. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Well, out with it! None of that tip-toeing around the point that you seem to delight in doing."

"And a good afternoon to you, Doctor Wilde," Hershel said. His tone was pleasant, as though they were discussing the weather over a cup of tea. "I see you're still letting the accusations fly. You've called for a by-election?"

She pointed a furious finger at Hershel. In many regards, she was quite an intimidating woman, one of those swirling tornadoes of wrath you hoped you'd never come across. If she had been a schoolteacher instead of a doctor, then she would have been the strict, hard-as-nails teacher that no one ever dared question. All of this was despite her being half Hershel's size.

"Bill Hawks did not resign willingly, and I intend to prove it. I don't know how you managed to do it, Layton, but mark my words, I will expose you for the fraud you are."

"Excuse me, Doctor," said Dimitri, trying his best to keep his tone as polite as possible. "If I were you, I'd leave right now, while the going is good." He knew Hershel would be amused by his interruption; she certainly wasn't, and she pinned Dimitri with a sharp gaze.

"And just who are you supposed to be?"

He frowned and glanced at Hershel, who chuckled quietly. Well, at least one of them was having fun. Dimitri hated this sort of thing, which was why he'd let Hershel assume control of the Family.

Dammit, I'm trying to save you without giving the game away. Maybe I should come right out and say it.

He looked back at Lorna, trying to give off the impression that he was unimpressed.

"I'm someone who thinks it's not worth your time to argue here. You should get back to wherever it was you were going."

"I don't recall ever asking for your opinion on how I conduct my affairs."

He leaned back, folding his arms. Even if, by some miracle, she did manage to get away, there was nowhere for her in the country left to hide, let alone run.

"It was just some advice," he said, beginning to think that being grumpy was, in fact, her normal state of being, irrespective of whether Hershel was nearby or not. "You're under no obligation to take it, of course, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn me? I already know the truth about Layton! Several people do. I'm not afraid of Layton. Nor of you!"

"I'm sorry, but if you knew the truth - and I mean the real truth - you would be afraid," said Dimitri.

"Excuse me? You don't intimidate me in the slightest, good sir!"

"I'm afraid he's right," Hershel said, taking a step towards her and reaching into his pocket. Dimitri knew her time was up. "You don't have a clue, frankly."

The officers went to either side of her and pulled her arms behind her, restricting her movement, and Dimitri thought: Serves her right. Instead of looking into Hershel's dealings, maybe she should have paid more attention to what Bill was doing behind closed doors.

"What do you think you're doing? I'll press charges, so help me!"

"Mmm... I think not," said Hershel, brandishing a Com Link with a mad smirk. Dimitri could see the change in her eyes, that instantaneous switch from offended outrage that told her to kick up a fuss, to a sense of dread that was suddenly telling her that something was really wrong here.

"A Com Link?" she said, staring up in bewilderment. "What?"

Quick as a flash, Hershel clip the device around her ear, and activated it by pushing a button on his remote.

"What is this? Ah, my head!"

Her eyes drooped, her gaze falling into a kind of trance-like state. This was a different kind of control setting. She was still consciously aware - but her higher motor functions had been taken over. Hershel demonstrated his command over her by ordering her to walk across the road, wave at them all, and then come right back.

He bent down in front of her, so that their eyes were level. "You see, my dear... I control the courts. The police. The armed forces. The banks accumulating interest; the schools teaching impressionable young minds. The local councils; the media corporations. The power running throughout every single home and business in the United Kingdom. I control it all. And very shortly, I shall control you as well."

He pushed a button to deactivate the device, and she inhaled sharply as if scrambling for the last remnants of air before suffocating, staring at him in wide-eyed terror.

"However... my colleague here seems to want you to retain your free will, so I will give you one last chance to walk away. Provided you accept my dominion over the United Kingdom."

Her eyes shot daggers again. "I'll never submit to you."

"You really don't have a choice, now, do you?"

"Is that so?" She glanced at something beyond her, up in the sky. "Maybe I'm only here to distract you both."

The next few moments were a crazed mass of chaos. An enormous explosion rocked the area, so much that the ground beneath them shook; during the ensuing confusion, Lorna threw up a gas grenade. When the smoke cleared, Lorna had vanished, and the blimp which held Bill prisoner was already high above the buildings, climbing ever upwards.

Dimitri and Hershel were quickly ushered into an armoured airship, surrounded by special operations police forces. There was a TV screen inside the airship. The military aircraft in pursuit of the prison blimp attempted to fire at it, but their aim was terrible; they might as well have been trying to shoot clouds in the sky.

"A jamming signal," said Hershel. "It's interfering with the auto-aim..." He chuckled at the blimp, slowly flying away, becoming smaller and smaller on the screen. "Well played, Luke."

"What?" said Dimitri, utterly flabbergasted. "Luke? As in Luke Triton? Your former apprentice? He's behind this attack?"

"Yes. He's rallied some forces together to oppose us, and they have been planning to strike against us for some time now. And, I must say, I'm rather impressed. He's done well to keep himself hidden for this long, especially for one still so young. I still have no idea where the rebels' base is."

"But..." Dimitri shook his head. He couldn't see how Hershel could sit there and remain composed and 'gentlemanly' while the person he had sworn to get revenge on for so many years was getting away. "I don't understand. How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, I suspect it'll have been a couple of years, now. Plenty of time for them to acquire their own airships, I'd imagine."

The level of calm that Hershel was displaying was too much; in fact, it was bordering on arrogance, as if he didn't care one hoot what Luke and his rebellion was doing.

"And I suppose you knew about these rebels the whole time, did you?"

Hershel smirked broadly. "Of course I did. Why do you think I came to this area with such a show of force? I believe their original plan for today was to kidnap you while your guard was down. I gave them Bill instead."

"You might have mentioned something earlier," said Dimitri sourly.

"And spoil the fun? I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist. The look on your face..."

Dimitri growled. "You...!" He gave Hershel a piercing look and pointed accusingly at him. "And I bet you could have stopped Luke if you really wanted to, couldn't you? This is all part of some grand master plan of yours."

"Yes. It shall not interfere with your progress on the Infinity Project, of that you can be certain."

But you're never going to tell me what it is, are you? That would be far too simple, wouldn't it?

Dimitri gave up. There really was no point in trying to talk sense to Hershel these days. "As long as that remains the case..."

He sighed, and leaned back into his chair, shutting his eyes for a moment. Hershel's madness was not doing his stress levels any favours. "...Well, it's as I said earlier. There's no point in me trying to stop you."

"And... you're all right with that?"

"Hershel. I am working to control time. Anything else is... inconsequential."

Hershel smiled one of his creepy small smiles. "I suppose it helps if one puts things in perspective."

He pushed a button on the intercom, ordering a cup of tea, while Dimitri looked out of the ship's window. It was true: if he was successful, then he was going to control time itself. So with that in mind, what on earth could Hershel's plan possibly be? What was Luke's part in all this?

He's just playing another chess game, he thought. Another piece of the puzzle; another Lego block in place.

Bill had had six years. How long would Luke have before Hershel became bored and moved in for the kill?

[ - 8 - ]

Author's notes:

Miracle Mask came out in Europe last Friday, and it is a simply amazing game. I enjoyed it so much! It's put me in the mood to replay all the Layton games again from the beginning, which I'll do when I get some time.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I have the majority of the story completed (it's in "revision/final draft" phase) so there's no danger of the fic dying, but even so reviews do tend to give a me a kick up the bum - a reminder to get up off my arse and bloody well do those revisions to the next chapter already. I was originally intending to have finished uploading all the chapters to this site by the time Miracle Mask came out, but real life events got in the way. Such is life, I suppose.

The next chapter is called: "Before the Storm" and features the return of Clive and Flora (hooray!).