Oliver turned to see two men carrying a large steel girder. He ducked just in time.

Once theyd passed, he stood, and his gaze fell upon a very familiar face.

Armando... Oliver said aloud.

The inventor looked exactly like he did in the photograph in Olivers inventors book; seventy years younger, with the fresh, unblemished face of a twenty-year-old. He was even wearing the exact same loose cotton shirt and dark corduroy trousers as in the photo, the same waistcoat and tool belt. And his walking stick was nowhere to be seen.

Oliver couldnt believe his eyes. But there was no denying it; he really had gone back in time. Back to a time when Armando was still alive. Back to 1944.

Though the shock and confusion was profound, Oliver was so thrilled to see Armando alive again that all he could feel was joy. He waved his arms over his head, jumped up and down, and called out across the din of the factory floor, Armando! Armando!

But his voice was lost in the hubbub of the busy factory. The inventor didnt see Olivers frantic waving either; he was too busy looking at some schematics on a table, peering at them with a microscope monocle.

Oliver, however, did not go completely unnoticed. A young boy standing beside Armando looked up and locked eyes with him.

Immediately, Oliver recoiled. He knew that face, those eyes. It was Lucas.

Oliver dropped his arms and stepped back, like Lucas was a magnet repelling him. Even as a youngster, Lucas looked sinister. His pale eyes were piercing.

Oliver watched on as the young Lucas tugged at Armandos loose sleeve, trying to get his attention. Armando was so busy he didnt immediately react to the boy tugging at him. But eventually he turned to look at Lucas. Oliver watched as Lucas spoke to the busy inventor, then pointed over at him.

Oliver gulped as Armandos eyes searched the factory hall for him, his frown deepening, his expression confused. Then their eyes met. Oliver felt a spark of grief inside; there was a clear lack of recognition in Armandos eyes. This Armando did not know him. Not even slightly. Not even a flicker. His heart sank.

Suddenly, he felt hands tighten on the tops of his arms. He looked upleft then rightand saw two guards either side of him. Theyd each gotten ahold of his arms under the pits.

This is private property, one said.

Howd you get in here? the other demanded.

Its a long story, Oliver said, swallowing. In about seventy years time…

The guards gave each other a look over his head. Then, without another word, they began to haul him away.

Wait, wait, wait! Oliver protested, trying to dig his heels in.

But it was no use. The guards were far too strong. Oliver glanced back over his shoulder at Armando, appealingly.

Armando! Help! Its me! Its Oliver!