Refuge in Time

by Sarah Woodbury

  Michael forced it into her hand. “You should have been driving this whole time probably.”

  The key fob was plain black without a logo, giving no indication to which of the three cars parked before them it belonged and amazingly enough, there were two orange cars in the car park. “The car is going to beep if I press the button, so we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  The farthest vehicle from her was a blue Nissan, so she ruled that one out immediately. Nearest to her were the two orange cars: an old Ford Fiesta and an older model Citroen, which was smaller than Livia’s own. Livia darted towards the side door of the Ford, fumbling to open the lever on the fob, and once she did, she stuck the physical key in the driver’s side lock. Nothing happened, so with a furtive look around her, and her heart beating fast the whole time, she ducked around the rear of the car, which was facing away from the house and had been backed into its spot, and went to the Citroen. To her relief, the key worked, and she gestured that Cade and Michael should come to her.

  They dashed forward, by which time Livia was in the car and had reached across the gearbox to manually unlock the passenger door, once again trying to avoid the beep that accompanied the clicking off of the locks.

  The Citroen was very small but it still had four doors, and Michael opened the back door on his side for Cade. The boy was becoming such an expert passenger that he crawled to the seat behind her, correctly gauging that his feet and knees would have more room there, since she would sit closer to the steering wheel than Michael. Any adult-sized person would have been very cramped in his place. Then he buckled himself in, even moving the lever on the side wall that adjusted the chest strap to fit his smaller frame. When Livia had been little, she’d always had to tuck the strap under her arm to prevent it from cutting into her neck, and she was glad kids didn’t have to do that anymore.

  Livia had already started the car, and now she eased forward with hardly a sound. The wheels on the graveled car park made more noise than the engine. The sun had risen by now, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was light enough to see their way without having to use the headlights, but if anyone was watching from the house, they would see them leaving.

  Livia shifted into gear and eased down the lane, initially thinking not to go fast so as not to call attention to themselves, but once the road curved to the right, putting her out of sight of the car park and the house as well, she picked up speed the best she could, given the poor condition of the road. It was heavily rutted, and both the ruts and any dip were filled with water from last night’s rain. At one point they came to a slight hill, and she feared they could be seen from the back of the house. But with a hedge on one side of the road and a fence on the other, ultimately she could do nothing other than what she was doing.

  Two miles on an unpaved farm track when twenty miles an hour is fast was heart-thumping in its slowness and desperation. Livia’s heart had been beating hard for a good thirty minutes now, with adrenaline pumping through her. She didn’t see the fear stopping any time soon either. Six minutes later, they pulled onto a lane heading east, and Livia accelerated to sixty.

  Michael had been turning around every few seconds in his seat to check behind them, allowing Livia to concentrate on her driving, and now he faced more solidly to the front. “Amazingly enough, we appear to be in the clear.”

  Livia had been trying to keep her breathing even, not wanting to freak Cade out more than the child probably already was. He’d arrived in this world less than ten hours ago and had basically spent the entire time either asleep or fleeing for his life in a car. He still had a piece of bacon clutched in his fist.

  Suddenly he spoke up. “My backpack!”

  Michael turned to look at him. “We left it at the house. I’m sorry. Sophie will keep it safe until we can work out what’s going on.”

  “At least I still have my money.” Cade’s anxiousness eased.

  “What money is that?” Michael asked.

  “This money.” A jingling noise came from the back seat, indicating Cade was holding up what he had and shaking it.

  “Nice how you can keep it hidden like that,” Michael said. “How much do you have in there?”

  “Ten shillings! My grandfather gave them to me last summer for my birthday.” Then Cade’s enthusiasm wavered slightly. “Do you think we’ll need to spend all of them?”

  Michael reached back to pat his knee. “I doubt it. But if we do, I’ll make sure you get more.” He brought back his arm and said to Livia in an undertone. “Ten shillings, eh?”

  Livia was feeling confident enough in their escape that she’d slowed to the speed limit and was able to take a hand off the wheel to adjust the mirror so she could see Cade’s face. “What can you buy with that much money? A cow?”

  “That’s what Dad said: You’re a real Welshman now. You can afford your first cow.”

  Livia laughed to see Michael’s jaw drop.

  They were coming up on the A55, the same multi-lane motorway they’d driven multiple times last night. It ran east from Caernarfon past Bangor to Conwy and then to England. She and Michael hadn’t discussed exactly where they were going, but he had inputted something into the car’s GPS, and she had elected to follow it without question.

  Once on the motorway, Michael grew quiet, paying attention to the cars around them.

  “Do you see someone behind us?” she asked.

  “I see plenty behind us. Plenty in front too. Professionals would tail us with a team of four cars. It makes them hard to track.”

  “Do you have suspicions?”

  “A couple of SUVs, maybe a panel van, and—” he shrugged, “—half a dozen cars look suspicious. I’ll keep watching.”

  They passed Bangor and began circling through a series of roundabouts on the way to Conwy.

  The minutes passed, as did the miles. Perhaps she was clenching the wheel a little tightly because Michael said, “You know we couldn’t do anything for Chad and the others.”

  She didn’t glance at him. “I know.”

  He gave a single shake of his head. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that. There was nothing we could have done.”

  “As in Sarajevo.”

  “As in.”

  Up ahead she could see Penmaenmawr and Penmaenbach, two great outcrops through which the westbound motorway ran, since there wasn’t enough land directly along the coast to support both sets of lanes. Their half of the motorway had been built right along the edge of the cliff, below which was a sharp drop to the sea.

  Michael glanced at it and said softly, “It would take very little to time travel right here, you know?”

  “I don’t think we’re up high enough, really.” For her part, Livia was focused on the traffic up ahead. The highway designers had seen fit to stop traffic in the middle of a high-speed motorway. It was awkward, but it was how the A55 had been built in North Wales. Once into the latest roundabout, she glanced at him. “Are you really ready for that?”

  “Are you?”

  But Livia’s attention was caught again by what was ahead of them. Their lane had successfully skirted one of the bluffs, while its mate had gone through the mountain, but once on the other side, up ahead was a wall of red tail lights. She had to slow and then slow again. Michael’s left hand was braced against the dashboard while his right was hooked around the headrest, trying to watch the front and back at the same time. “I don’t like this. We could be caught between the bluffs with nowhere to escape.”

  “Except over the cliff, as you said.” Livia shot him a grim look. Up ahead was an exit, and she edged between two cars that didn’t want to give her room, drove for twenty yards, and then took the ramp off the motorway.

  “Two vehicles are coming with us.” Michael remained twisted in his seat, looking behind them. “A white panel van and a blue SUV.” He pulled Sophie’s mobile from a pocket and started taking pictures.

  Livia glanced into the rearview mirror as the vehicles came down the
ramp after them. Like the black SUVs Chad favored, she could see the appeal of more space, except large vehicles sometimes ran into trouble on Wales’ tiny lanes. “They’re probably innocent drivers.”

  Michael was busy with his thumbs. “And if they’re not?”

  “Who are you going to send them to?”

  “Candy, in case they took away Chad’s phone.”

  Livia gunned the little Citroen through a roundabout, took the overpass over the highway.

  Michael was still busy with his phone and didn’t even look up. “Candy says they’re all fine. The assault on the compound was by the National Crime Agency, looking for—” he paused before adding in an incredulous tone, “—human traffickers?”

  “It’s a front for the EM. It has to be.” She barely stopped at the first controlled intersection she came to, taking a left and then an immediate right

  “That’s what Chad thinks.” Michael finally glanced forward. “You’re going into a mine?”

  “It’s Monday morning. It will be open, and there will be people about.” She checked the map screen again. “And it will allow us to get high.”

  Michael looked behind him. “And those cars are following.”

  Livia let out a sharp breath at the knowledge they really were being chased. After speeding past the granite mine’s administrative building, they started climbing through a series of switchbacks.

  Livia was focused entirely on the road, so Michael, his eyes now split between the map, the mobile, and what was happening outside, navigated with simple commands: “Right; stay to the left around this curve; straight; the road curves to the right; straight.” Every fifteen seconds he took another picture and texted it.

  They passed a dozen lorries, leaving puzzled workers in their wake. Nobody tried to get in front of them. On one straight stretch, Livia could see both vehicles still following, though they struggled with the curvy gravel road more than the Citroen, as she’d hoped. She took a hard left and the road began to switchback more dramatically up the face of the mountain. The vehicles behind her kept pace, and now a third had joined them. Everyone had GPS now, so perhaps the driver had found an alternative entrance to the mine. They came around a hairpin curve and found themselves running along the very top of the bluff, overlooking the mine.

  Now they had a choice before them: to take a left and come off the mountain via a narrow lane, which would take them to the village behind the mine. Or they could drive straight and follow the road to its end, whatever that end might be. Livia glanced at the map, seeing the choice coming. Given that the road had straightened, the third vehicle, an SUV, which had managed the drive more easily than the panel van, was bearing down on them.

  Michael looked behind them and then at her. “We’re not Thelma and Louise.”

  Despite the danger, she briefly turned her head to meet his eyes. “No, but maybe we should be.” She returned her attention to the road, waiting for his decision.

  He sent one more text and then turned in his seat, his hand going to Cade’s seatbelt to make sure it was secure. They he faced forward again. “Straight.”

  Livia floored it.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  4 April 2022

  Chad

  The men in black kicked down the door from the breakfast room to the kitchen at almost the same time they stormed in through the outside door coming from the mudroom. Chad’s head was still reeling from the flashbang, which for some reason had affected him and Amelia worse than the others, and it left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. He still hadn’t been able to get to his feet, though thankfully Amelia had stopped throwing up and had tossed a kitchen towel over the vomit on the floor, so he could neither see nor smell it.

  Then she’d crawled over to where he sat leaned up against the basement door, having managed to move there from the oven island, as an added level of precaution to make sure it was the last place their attackers looked. Candy had taken up his old position, opposite where he sat, leaned against the oven island. Her legs, like his, were splayed in front of her.

  He supposed the only good thing about how terrible he felt was that he could barely muster up a modicum of fear at the approach of the members of the assault team. The letters on the front of their Kevlar vests proclaimed them to be NCA, whatever that meant.

  The first man through the door proclaimed, “In here!” and then quartered the room without putting down his assault rifle.

  He was followed by two more men, all walking military style. Joe and Mali both put their hands on top of their heads of their own volition, and then were told to get on the floor and put their hands behind their backs. They were cuffed and helped to stand, though Mali swayed and had to be propped against the counter.

  Amelia had her forehead resting on Chad’s thigh. None of them made any attempt to move, get up, or speak. He had no problem making it appear like he was worse off than he was, if only so as not to make this easy on them—whatever this was.

  A man in shirtsleeves but also wearing a Kevlar vest came through the door from the breakfast room after his men. He pointed at Joe and Mali. “Get them in the lounge.” It was only then that he spied Chad, Candy, and Amelia, and as Chad looked up at him, the man’s jaw dropped.

  “Hi,” Chad said. “What’s up?”

  The man made as if to speak, changed his mind, put up his hand to stop the two agents from taking Mali and Joe from the kitchen, and finally said. “Chad Treadman.” It wasn’t a question.

  Chad made a move to nod, but it hurt his head so much he stopped halfway through the motion. “Yes.”

  “This is your house?”

  “Yes.”

  The man rubbed his left hand over his mouth and chin.

  “I gather someone may have made a mistake?” Chad said.

  The man didn’t answer right away. Instead, he snapped his fingers at the guards holding Mali and Joe and said, “Release them.” Then he went to Chad and crouched in front of him. “I’m D.I. Fleming of the National Crime Agency. We’ve been working on a case involving trafficking in children and women, and we thought we caught a break last night.”

  Chad just looked at him. For her part, Amelia lifted her head and eased into a sitting position to Chad’s left.

  Fleming tsked through his teeth. “We traced the syndicate to this house.”

  A woman, also dressed in assault gear from head to foot, stepped into the kitchen. “The house is clear, sir.”

  From his crouch and without turning around, Fleming said, “You’ve searched everywhere?”

  “We haven’t yet cleared the outbuildings. Men are on the way to do that now. We did find this.” She held up a backpack, which had been unzipped to show Fleming the contents without him having to touch them. “A gold cup and a jeweled knife, and what looks like an old book.” She waved a hand to someone behind her, who came around holding a metal cup. “Also this.”

  Fleming took the cup and looked in it before showing its contents, a cell phone doused in coffee, to Chad.

  Chad waved a hand and lied. “Those belong to King David. He couldn’t take the cellphone home with him. And didn’t get a chance to take the backpack. Obviously.”

  Fleming sighed and put the coffee cup on the counter. Then he indicated the woman should give the backpack to Chad.

  By now, Chad was starting to feel better, so he took the backpack and then also slid himself up the door to a standing position. “I think I have the right to know why you thought illegal activity was happening at this house. It is too much of a coincidence after what happened last night.”

  Fleming didn’t have to ask what Chad meant.

  Chad continued, “Have you liaised with WECTU? Did you speak with anyone at MI-5?”

  Fleming licked his lips. He looked to be fairly senior in his organization. Under his vest he was wearing an expensive shirt, pants, and shoes, and his hair was gray at the temples. Likely he wasn’t used to being as much in the wrong as he was this morning. “Our investigation wa
s deemed unrelated.”

  Chad snorted. “Except for the fact that you just destroyed my house.”

  The woman who’d brought the backpack indicated the door at Chad’s back. “What’s behind there, sir?”

  Chad instantly moved aside. “The basement.”

  Fleming gestured that one of the so-far-nameless troopers should open the door, implying he still didn’t trust Chad and thought he was hiding something. But just as the trooper moved towards it, the door itself opened outward to reveal Sophie holding a wine bottle in each hand, followed by Reg carrying an excessively large sack of rice on his right shoulder.

  At the sight of the assault team with guns, Sophie’s eyes widened. “Oh!” She pulled up short, holding up both bottles. “We didn’t do anything!”

  Chad hadn’t known how good an actress she was—and under pressure too.

  Fleming sighed again. “Stand down.” Then he looked at Chad. “I would appreciate it if you could join me in the den. I will see what I can do to get this sorted.”

  They trailed after Fleming to the room adjacent to the dining room on the other side of the hallway from the lounge, with plush sofas and chairs to sit on and two giant screens on one wall. It had windows, and Amelia immediately went to pull the drapes aside.

  In the advert for the house, the room had been referred to as a gaming room. That was just the kind of place Chad liked best and, even on short notice, he’d kitted it out (as the Brits said) with the appropriate quantity of computer equipment. It was here where Chad and Candy had spent the night, not together of course, but with their respective computers. An hour ago, Chad had been asleep on the couch.

  Fleming gave the room a cursory inspection before nodding at his people. “This will do.”

  Candy went to one of the computers and swiveled the chair around so it faced outward. When Fleming didn’t protest, Chad took the chair beside her, while the others distributed themselves around the room.

  “I’ll have some of my people bring your breakfast to you.” His eyes met Chad’s. “I would rather not leave anyone to guard you. It is my hope you will be discreet about these events until I get to the bottom of them.”