As she smoothed the cloth along his shoulders, Amelia commented that she was going to have to get him front and center soon enough. The implication was that he looked good. The idea was not displeasing. His eyes strayed to Livia, who was dressed to perfection as usual in a sleek black skirt, jacket, and three-inch black heels, with her blonde hair swept up into a chignon at the back of her head. The only off-note was that she was chewing on the unpolished nail of her pinky finger.
Livia saw him glance at her, stopped chewing on her nail, and came closer. If he had been barefoot, she would have been taller than he was. As it was, with her in heels and him in his fancy dress shoes, they were effectively the same height. “Amelia wasn’t wondering if you were nervous about being seen. I agree with her that you shouldn’t be worrying about that at all. It’s the security arrangements for tonight that have us wound tight. Have me wound tight,” she amended.
Michael blinked. As Chad’s spokesperson, Amelia had taken charge of all of them with an enviable steadiness and utter calm, regardless of what had gone on. Livia was an officer for MI-5, sent to them as the liaison from her agency at the direct request of Director-General Philips. No event, no matter how mad, had seemed to disturb either of them—including the fact that they were about to witness an interview between a time traveling King of England and a chat show host.
Owain Williams, the host for tonight’s broadcast, had been specially chosen by Chad Treadman, as had the arena, an old shipping warehouse east of Conwy that had been re-purposed as a recording and television studio for productions set in Wales. The interview was being filmed before a live studio audience, with a stage set before several hundred seats, those in the back raised up on risers. Men and women readied four cameras, so the stage could be filmed from every angle, and massive lights, suspended from big I-beams and scaffolding up in the ceiling, lit the stage and the audience.
Amelia, Chad, and the rest were positioned behind a curtain that to the audience looked like black velvet, but to those on the stage was like one-way glass, with pleats. It gave everyone in the wings a full view of the audience and the warehouse without those on the other side having any idea they were being watched. Michael had supposed that the effect would be reversed if it were darker in the warehouse than on the stage, but he’d checked earlier and that hadn’t been the case.
After another pat on his shoulder, Amelia left to speak urgently to one of Owain Williams’ people, which left Michael to answer only to Livia. He gestured to the rafters, forty feet in the air. “I scouted the stairway and the catwalk and did a full sweep of the entire warehouse. As far as I can tell, it’s clean.” He frowned at her. “You could have looked too.”
“Dennis Rathman made it clear I was not welcome. I’m a technology expert, not someone trained specifically in security.” Dennis was the new overall head of Chad Treadman’s security force.
Then Livia eyed him again. “He implied something similar about you.”
Michael wrinkled his nose at that, knowing what she said was true. Belatedly, he put his hand to his earpiece, making sure he had his voice on mute, even if he could still hear the chatter among the rest of the security personnel. He lowered the volume slightly so their call-ins were less distracting.
Then he looked more closely at Livia, remembering the uncharacteristic nail chewing. “Are you worried about something in particular?”
Livia gave a little shiver. “Nothing I can pinpoint. I’ve done security work, but Dennis is right that it’s hardly my primary training.”
“I’ll listen to anything you have to say. Anything at all.” What Michael didn’t say to Livia, at least not yet, was that he thought the security in and out of the warehouse was too lax for comfort and woefully inadequate for the size of the building, with far too few people to oversee such a large space.
Beyond Michael himself, Dennis, and Reg, one of the original members of Chad’s security team, whom Michael had met at the hospital the day David had arrived, they had one man guarding the front entrance to the warehouse car park, two patrolling the outside, two stationed inside the warehouse, and two more providing personal security to Chad wherever he went. Even with all that, they should have had at least four more, if only to sub in when someone wanted to use the loo. Dennis had given them all earpieces, which was helpful, but Michael didn’t think technology was a substitute for boots on the ground.
Michael wasn’t an expert, however, as his new boss had pointedly remarked, apparently not just to him, since Livia had deduced Dennis’s disdain as well. His exact words to Michael had been, Weren’t you a medic in the army? The truth, of course, was that Dennis thought Michael unqualified for his new job and didn’t see why he should listen to him.
Unfortunately, the man who should have been Michael’s boss, someone Michael had heard great things about, wasn’t currently in this universe. Andre had been overall head of security, and George his second-in-command, among the many other things he did as Chad’s go-to guy. They had gone with Anna in the plane to Earth Two, and it appeared Chad was reluctant to definitively replace them. Dennis was running this operation as an interim manager. Michael saw him as diligent but uninventive.
It was the fear of someone who was inventive that had Michael rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Livia saw him do it, though he had meant to keep himself firmly planted so as not to alarm her. “You are worried! Did you tell David?”
“I thought he had enough on his plate to be going on with.” Michael shook his head. “I may be new at this job, but I’m paid to worry. The men and women Chad employs are highly qualified, but their focus appears to be more on containing the press and the audience than on actual physical threats to David’s safety.”
Worse, to Michael’s way of thinking, he didn’t personally know the other members of the security team. They weren’t his team yet, and he knew from his time in the army that a team was only as strong as its weakest link. He hadn’t been with the organization long enough to know who that weak link might be. Likely, many of the security personnel thought it was him.
Livia glanced towards where Amelia was now talking to Chad. “That might be her fault. Dennis shut me out as a matter of course, but all of us want to contain the press while appearing not to.”
“Well, that is Amelia’s job.” He attempted a smile. “We should stick to worrying about ours.”
Once Dennis had made clear his annoyance at Michael’s interference, Michael had subsided, knowing from long experience when his advice wasn’t wanted and wouldn’t be heeded if he gave it. But Livia was another matter, and now that she’d started the conversation, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t share his concerns with someone, even if she was a scary beautiful MI-5 officer.
They had rubbed shoulders quite a bit over the last few days as they circled around David. As David’s bodyguard, Michael had been a constant presence at his side. Since Livia appeared not to want to let David out of her sight either, they’d been thrown together much of the time and often found themselves hovering in doorways or loitering in corridors together.
“Let’s start with Owain Williams,” he said.
Livia looked to where Michael indicated. “Ah. You mistrust our esteemed host?”
Michael snorted laughter. “Maybe not him, exactly, but he also brought his own security crew, on top of the army of people required to put on the show, from makeup artists, to caterers, to the light technicians in the ceiling, none of whom has been properly vetted.”
“Did you talk to Chad about this?”
“I did, even if going over your boss’s head is never a good idea your third day on the job.”
“What did he say?”
“Chad didn’t dismiss outright what I told him, but he’s far more interested in putting on this show. Following up on a caterer’s dodgy background, if his resume and living arrangements have been looked into at all, is far down the list of his concerns.”
Livia pursed her lips. “I wish yo
u’d told me sooner. I could have put Five on it.”
Michael gave a disgusted grunt.
“You don’t trust me.”
He eyed her. “It isn’t you I don’t trust.”
She gave a low laugh. “David basically said that exact same thing to me.”
“You have to admit it’s for good reasons.”
“I do, but you have to admit that if we know anything, it’s security.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Michael said, not even that grudgingly—mostly because he was kicking himself for not confiding in her sooner. “I should have thought of it earlier.” His gaze fell on the center of the stage. It was seconds from showtime, and several members of the crew had put up their hands to shush the audience. “Now it’s too late.”
Chapter Three
3 April 2022
Livia
After what felt like an interminable wait, Owain introduced David, who left off conferring with Amelia and Chad to walk onstage. The moment he appeared, everyone in the audience stood and clapped. A whole faction sitting on the right side of the stands was composed of women who appeared to be screaming, as if David were the Beatles, U2, and Jesus Christ rolled into one. Several women in the front row were even crying.
Under the cover of the crowd, Michael leaned in to whisper to Livia, “Can you believe this?”
She could.
She hadn’t known David very long, but she too had been disarmed by his sincerity, sense of justice, and his sheer wattage when it came to intelligence. She’d vouched for him to the Director-General, who probably thought she had a crush on him like the rest of the planet. At one time, she might have fallen for him hard, but she’d been around the block a time or two since university. Even in their short acquaintance, she could tell he would be an intense person to live with. His wife, Lili, had her hands full.
That didn’t mean, however, David wasn’t one of the most impressive people she’d ever met. He’d told her early on that he’d been treated like a kid every other time he’d come to Avalon, so he was genuinely surprised at the outpouring of attention and respect—and in the case of the women in the audience, love—directed at him since he’d arrived this time.
And truthfully, her approach to him at the start of this assignment was hardly better than the agents who’d interacted with him on previous trips. While she’d resolved to treat him like a human being, which Five up until that time had not been doing, in retrospect, her initial attitude had been a bit patronizing. Even if Director-General Philips was determined to rectify the mistakes of the past, the unspoken subtext had been exactly as David had feared: He is an uneducated twenty-five-year-old American kid. We’ll humor him, convince him that working with us is the way to go, and make him think we believe he really is the King of England. But we know better, don’t we? Wink, wink.
David finally made it to his seat, but the moment he sat, he sank down so his head was a good foot lower than where Owain was sitting at his desk, and Livia’s heart sank with him. The seating was one of the things Chad had tried to arrange in advance. Owain himself was no more than five foot eight, so Livia could understand him not wanting to stand during the interview and spend the whole time looking up at David, but this was going too far in the opposite direction.
While many tall women attempted to hide their height, wearing flat shoes and slouching, Livia had taught herself not to. If some men didn’t like the fact that she could look them in the eye (and there’d been plenty), that was their problem. She was pleased that Michael appeared not to care. It was refreshing to spend time with a man who was different and unfazed by that difference. To Livia’s eyes, few attributes in a man were sexier than the quiet competence and confidence he exhibited.
For a moment after David sank into the sofa, Owain looked away, towards where Chad stood a few feet from Livia. In that split-second, Owain’s eyes crinkled in the corners, and his mouth twitched wider in an extra bit of smile. It told Livia that Owain knew exactly what he’d done, and he was pleased it had turned out the way he’d planned. Livia had the distinct impression that it wasn’t David whom Owain wanted to put one over on so much as Chad.
Livia nodded. A person had to be confident to allow another to appear superior in any way. Some people thought everything was about money, power, and hierarchy. Livia didn’t share that opinion. She was pretty sure by now that Michael didn’t either. But she understood that many people did. As with the heels, she used their insecurity to her advantage.
Beside her, however, Michael ground his teeth, irate on David’s behalf. “It’s insulting.”
“Sure, but David is a big boy. His best bet is to play along as if he hasn’t noticed, and even if he did, that it doesn’t matter—and look, he’s doing it.”
Beside her, Michael relaxed and nodded.
While she hadn’t known Michael long, she’d worked out in the first ten minutes that he had a very sane view of the world. He didn’t wear rose-colored glasses, but neither was he cynical. He saw what was happening and accepted it. As did David, which was maybe why the two men got along so well. And in this case, it wasn’t as if David could walk out in response. He was committed to going through with the interview, whatever the circumstances or the outcome.
Chad stepped closer to Michael and Livia, far less accepting. “I don’t like that Owain saw fit to break our deal in the first few seconds of the interview. I’d like to know what else he’s done.” The deal in question was that, in exchange for Chad himself not running the interview or using his own film crew, Owain would be honest with David and not turn the interview into an ambush.
Michael’s brow furrowed. “Owain wouldn’t actually try to harm David in front of the entire world.” He paused. “Would he?”
“I can’t see how he even could, but he is going to try to get the better of him—in order to get at me. I hadn’t realized I was the problem, or I would have taken myself out of the equation.”
That was exactly what Livia had been thinking, and it was a more insightful observation than she would have given Chad credit for a moment ago. She reminded herself that Chad was more than an awkward nerd. He looked like a nerd, with nondescript brown hair, blue eyes, short stature, and an unathletic build, but he was also the founder and CEO of one of the largest corporations on the planet. When she’d been introduced to him, he’d taken in her appearance and height with a glance, and then, like Michael, hadn’t given them a second thought. It occurred to her that he might also use his appearance as a mask, just like she did, but in the opposite direction, to disarm and de-escalate. And then to get the better of his competitors.
It was food for thought. Meanwhile, Chad chewed nervously on his lower lip. “I should have put this off a few more days to prep him better.”
Michael shook his head. “Sunday night is the night for interviews, and we couldn’t have held off the reporters much longer. They subsided for as long as they did only because of the promise of tonight.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Livia glanced at the gaggle of them, clogging the entire space to the right of the stands, as well as the darkness beyond. Chad had set up giant screens so they could watch what was occurring onstage without encroaching any more than they already were on the actual audience. Owain had agreed not to allow the reporters to ask any questions. Besides, it suited his ego to be the only one with that authority.
“I don’t think you could have held off David much longer either,” Livia added. “It’s only because William was injured that David agreed to stay here until today.”
Chad grinned. “You know those charities that pay for a dying person’s last wish, which is often to have dinner with their favorite celebrity? It’s pretty cool to have gotten my wish. Now I can die happy.”
“Wait ... what? Sir?” Michael gazed open-mouthed at Chad.
The Treadman Global CEO flapped a hand at him, shushing him since Owain had finally managed to get the audience to quiet. “Don’t worry. A figure of speech. Not dying yet.”
As the last of the crying women seemed to gain control of herself, Owain straightened in his office chair and faced the central camera. “Welcome to the Owain Williams show. Thank you for being with us, and special thanks to David ap Llywelyn for being here tonight.” He pronounced the Welsh ll correctly, not surprising since the whole point of having him do the interview was that he was Welsh.
Michael, however, gave a little snort, prompting a smile from Livia. He’d been part of Chad’s retinue for all of three days, but already his language skills were legendary among the rest of the staff. He’d admitted to her, after some prodding on her part, that he spoke with some fluency Urdu, Pashto, Punjabi, Arabic, German, and French (which meant Italian and Spanish too, of course), in addition to English. But he hadn’t yet mastered the ll in Welsh.
David bent his head. “My pleasure. Happy to be here.”
Beyond Livia, Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s sticking to the script.”
“First off, how is William doing—that’s the name of your friend, isn’t it?” Owain said. “I understand he arrived with an injury. A crossbow bolt, was it?”
“Yes. He is healing. Thank you for asking. And thanks especially to the staff at Ysbyty Gwynedd in Bangor. Because of them, William should be fine.” David lifted his chin to indicate the opposite wing of the stage, effectively where Livia and the others were standing. “He was well enough to come tonight.”
William, in fact, had spent the last half-hour chatting in a mix of French and English with the young woman, Alex, Chad had acquired to help him negotiate the modern world. On occasion, William managed to convey what he meant with startling clarity, including his favorite phrase, you’ve got to be kidding me! said with a perfect American accent, which the American members of Chad’s staff thought hilarious.
Now, while Alex hung back, William moved to stand next to Amelia so they made up a row of observers: William, Amelia, Livia, Michael, and Chad.
Refuge in Time Page 2