“Ah, a credit card,” Kat echoed. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We’re paying you in cash.”
The receptionist blinked at her. “You’re paying in cash? For three days?” Turning to the computer, she tapped at the keyboard. “But that’s $4800 just for the rooms.”
“That’s fine,” she said, peeling $5000 off a wad of banknotes and dropping it on the counter.
“But what about the incidentals?”
“Incidentals?”
“Yes, like minibar, room service, restaurant... We usually take an imprint of your credit card.”
Kat pursed her lips. “I can pay a deposit if that helps.”
The young woman peered at Dore, Giselle, and Lily. “That could be quite a… deposit. Would you excuse me? I’ll have to ask.” Kat watched her as she went over to a balding man with a short mustache, talked in whispers for a moment, and then returned. “Would another $5000 for incidentals be acceptable?”
“Whatever it takes,” Kat said, peeling off another $5000.
When check-in was complete, and there were no more hurdles to jump, they headed for the elevators and hit the button for the 57th floor. They were in. Kat had expected complications, but as usual, money talked. They all stared at each other as the elevator drew them upwards with surprising speed, but nobody spoke. It was Dore who finally broke the silence when they stepped out onto the 57th floor.
“I wonder if Guinness cures altitude sickness.”
“Or money sickness,” Giselle remarked. “Did you really just hand over $10,000 for a couple of hotel rooms?”
“This is 2025, Ellie, and we’re in the middle of New York. I just hope Grantham isn’t living in 2070, because we definitely won’t have enough money.”
“We won’t need another hotel,” Dore said, opening the door to their suite. “We’ll be doing most of our teleporting in Old Westbury.”
The first thing Kat did when she walked into the suite was open the interconnecting doors. To her relief, both suites had twin double beds. Going over to the window, she gazed out at New York. The view was incredible. They were surrounded by skyscrapers, and the top of the Empire State Building was only yards away. The last time she’d seen the Empire State Building, she’d been twelve years old.
“Weapons,” Dore said, dumping a bag on the bed and studying Giselle’s clothes. “We’re going to need weapons, and you can’t carry them dressed like that. I know it’s warm outside, but...”
Giselle tugged at her short skirt. “We can buy jackets.”
Dore shook his head. “If I were you, I’d buy jeans. Your gun is tiny. It would fit in the pocket of your pants.” He looked at Kat. “But, you need to buy a jacket for that cannon of yours.”
Kat shrugged. “Fine. I’ll buy something when the cars have been delivered.”
“You rented the cars already?”
“I did. It cost me another $800. The cars are being delivered to the parking lot across the road. They’re nothing special, just average cars. Do you think you can find the road when Grantham’s car disappeared?”
“It was called Old Wagon Lane. I should be able to. When are we going?”
“I want to go this morning. We need to familiarize ourselves with Old Westbury. If we study the houses, it might become obvious where Grantham was heading. Then I want to go back to where he disappeared and surf the days.”
“What do you mean, surf the days?”
Kat cocked her head and grinned at him. “I’ve never tried, but Grantham did it when he met us in the park. He said he surfed the years, so he must have ridden the control on his time machine.”
“Do you know how to do that?”
“I think so. I have to set the time, tap it, re-set the time, tap it, and then keep going. Grantham said it was like changing the channels on a TV set. If we go back to Sunday the 17th and then skim the hours and minutes, we might see Grantham’s car arrive and disappear. If that happens, I’m going to skim the minutes until he re-appears. He’s bound to go back there. He was on his way home.” Kat laughed. “We might even see ourselves driving the Corvette.”
“That’s going to be freaky.”
“And what are we going to do?” Lily asked as she tried to fit a Baby Browning into the pocket of her jeans.
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to see when we get there. But a word of warning, if we follow Grantham on Sunday the 17th, there are going to be guards, and they’ll be on the lookout for us. We’ll map it all out before the 17th, but I doubt if we’ll know where the guards are going to be, so it could be dangerous.”
It was 10:00 in the morning when they signed for the rental cars. They were both electric, so there would be no need to gas them up when they had to return them, but Dore was annoyed and made rude comments about driving a golf buggy. Kat had bought herself a hunting jacket, and Giselle had switched her short skirt for cargo pants and lace-up boots. They had also bought something called throw away cell phones from a phone kiosk. Kat thought the idea of the phones was brilliant. After the man at the kiosk showed the team how to operate the cell phones, they would never lose contact with each other. All they had to do now was make their way to Old Westbury.
Looking behind them to make sure the girls were following, Kat pulled out the Browning High Power. Even with the jacket she’d bought, it was a heavy gun to carry, but who knew what they would have to face. If Grantham’s guards were anything like the man who tried to kill them in Central Park, they would be armed, but with modern assault rifles. Then again, it was 2025. Maybe they had smaller weapons that were even more deadly.
Dore must have read her mind. “Do you think they’ll try to kill us?”
“They might try. I don’t trust Grantham. He might sound like a reasonable man, but he’s rich, and rich men are usually ruthless. I wouldn’t put it past him to instruct his guards to kill on sight if we get too close.” Dore looked at her, but it wasn’t his usual glance. She could feel his eyes boring into her. “It’s OK, Jock. We’ll get through this.”
“It’s just that I don’t want to… you know… lose you again. We’ve been together through thick and thin.” He let out an uncertain laugh. “And Hell was definitely thin.”
She reached across and patted his knee. “Don’t worry about it, Jock. I think we’re destined to be together. You didn’t go to New York when we were killed; you went to Scotland, but Persephone sent for you. We’ll find each other, whatever happens.” Then she slapped him hard on the leg. “But we’re not going to get killed, Jock. I’m Sherlock Holmes, and you’re Dr. Watson. They were never killed, and they never split up.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Kat saw a sign for Old Westbury. In another mile, they would exit the highway. Pulling out the new phone, she keyed in Lily’s number.
“Just checking in. We’re leaving the highway. The roads in Old Westbury are very quiet, so don’t stay too close to us. If Grantham has guards posted, they’ll be watching for the four of us.”
“And when you stop?”
“Overtake us and keep going. We can talk on the phone. If you see an Aston Martin, it probably belongs to Grantham. They’re unusual cars.”
“We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”
They were leaving the highway now, and Kat felt tense as they exited on to Old Westbury Road. Not far from here, Grantham had turned left and driven over the highway. Would she remember it? And then she saw it, a narrow bridge that turned into Wheatley Road.
“Turn left, Jock.”
“Yeah, I saw it.”
They were on Wheatley Road now, but it was twisting and turning. There were lawns and eucalyptus trees on either side of the road. Most of the houses were set back off the road, and they were expensive, although not that expensive. It was still too near the highway. They reached a T-junction. To the right, Glen Oaks Club was posted, to the left, Old Westbury golf and country club. Hardly pausing, Dore turned left. He knew where they were going.
“I recognize this. W
e’re not far from where Grantham disappeared.”
“You’re kidding. But we’ve only just left the highway.”
“I know. Grantham must have driven around the houses in case he was being followed.”
The road veered sharply to the right, and they passed a sign for the state university, then it veered left again. The houses began to get bigger, accessed through tall iron gates. They passed a manor house that could have been set in the English countryside. Then a little further on, they passed a man raking a lawn, except that it was hard to see why he was raking. There were no leaves on the lawn. And then after another hundred yards, a man was tinkering with a mower, but he was wearing belted overalls and boots. Strange. He didn’t look normal.
“I think it’s the next left turn. Wow, Grantham took us on a bit of a detour. I’m going to stop. Tell the girls to pass us and turn around in half a mile, and stop.”
“Did you see those men?”
“I did. You want me to drive a bit further?”
“Until there are no men in sight.”
Driving for another half mile, Dore eased the car to a stop. The men were now out of sight, but they had almost reached Dore’s intended turning. She was beginning to recognize the houses where Grantham had disappeared. As Dore had remembered, the turning was called Old Wagon Lane. Lily and Giselle’s car swished past. And then silence as it rounded a bend and passed out of sight.
They sat there for a moment. A few hundred yards away, a man was watering his lawn. He was too far away to see clearly, but he seemed to water the same patch of lawn, over and over. Another guard? Or was she just being paranoid? Then again, paranoia had saved her life in North Africa.
In other circumstances, Dore would have got out and opened the hood, pretending he had a problem with the engine, but electric cars didn’t have engines like standard cars, so they just sat there.
“So what do you want to do, Kat? I think we’re being watched.”
“Make the turning, Jock. I think I saw a wooded area just past where Grantham vanished. If there are no guards in sight, maybe we can use it.”
Dore nodded and pulled away. Kat had been right; there was a dense area of trees almost adjacent to where Grantham had disappeared. Finding a dirt track that led into the woods, Dore turned into it. The trail climbed to a small rise that overlooked the road. It was perfect. Turning the car around and parking beside a huge rhododendron bush, they sat there for a moment.
“Do you think it’s safe to teleport here?” Dore asked.
Letting down the window, her senses were immediately assaulted by birdsong. She could smell dirt and rotting leaves. All the nearby houses were large and expensive, most of them not visible from the road through the private woods. It was unlikely that more homes would be built in the next fifty years; the area was too upmarket.
“I’m sure it’s safe, but I think we should call the girls first. We need to distract the guy with the water hose.” Pulling out her phone, she keyed in Lily’s number. “Hi, Lily. Are you OK?”
“We’re fine. We’ve turned around and stopped.”
“Good. Did you see that man watering his lawn?”
“We did.”
“Drive down to where he is, stop and study the rental map and then ask him for directions to The Matthew’s Place. You’re pretty good looking, so it’ll take him a while to tell you that he hasn’t the slightest idea where it is.”
“And then?”
“Drive until all the men are out of sight, then stop. I’ll call you.”
Terminating the call, she climbed out. And then it got interesting. Through the trees, she could see an enormous house. It was surrounded by landscaped gardens, and a winding drive led up to it, probably accessible from the far end of the lane. Grantham’s house? Was it possible they’d found it so easily? Reaching into the car, she extracted the field glasses from Dore’s armory bag and squinted through them.
It was a magnificent house, with a pillared porch with sculpted lions framing a double front door. The house boasted three pitched roofs and what looked like an old oast house. If she’d seen it in England, she would have said it was at least two hundred years old. But there was something odd about the house. Tiles were missing on parts of the roof, and the lawns hadn’t been mown. The house was a quarter of a mile away, and she was looking at it through field glasses, but it looked as if it had been left to decay.
“Jock,” she whispered. “Take a look at this.”
Taking the glasses, Dore squinted through them. “Wow. Nice house, but not in very good condition.”
“Do you think it’s Grantham’s house?”
“If it is, he’s not living there.”
She winked at him. “No, but he might be teleporting from there.”
“Well, let’s have a look. Surf back to last Sunday and see if Grantham’s car re-appears.”
“OK. Stand behind me and put your arms around my waist. I’ll see if I can do this surfing thing.”
Pulling back her sleeve, she set the watch to August the 17th and tapped her wrist. But nothing seemed to change. There was the usual rushing sound, and the sun seemed lower in the sky, but nothing else had changed. And then she noticed that their rental was missing. Winding the time forward by an hour, she tapped the watch again. And once again, nothing changed. There must be a better way to surf time. Placing her thumb on the winding mechanism, she began drumming her fingers on the watch face. And suddenly an Aston Martin turned the corner. She stood there, dumbfounded. She could see Grantham through the windscreen. His indicator was still flashing, and he was looking behind him. And then, without warning, the car vanished. She stared at the empty road. She’d seen people disappear, but never an entire car.
And then the Corvette came into sight, stopped, and sat there for a moment. She could see herself talking to Dore. It was Bizarre. She watched in fascination as the Corvette turned around, then drove away.
“What now?”
“Try going forward ten minutes.”
Trembling with anticipation, she drummed on the watch again, and to her astonishment, the Aston Martin re-appeared. She stopped teleporting and watched it as it continued down the lane, soon disappearing around a bend in the road. Kat knew precisely what was going to happen. Releasing Dore’s grip on her waist, she turned to focus the field glasses on the house again, and sure enough, seconds later, the Aston Martin came into view. But it didn’t drive up to the house. It pulled up beside a row of garages, and Grantham got out.
“What’s he doing?” Dore asked.
“He’s opening a garage door. He’s going to park the car in the garage.” She lowered the glasses. “What are we going to do? We have no car, and I don’t want to walk there with all these guards around.”
“We’d never get there in time anyway. Let’s go back to normal time. We can drive there in the rental and see if the car’s still in the garage.”
Giving the watch a few decisive taps until the rushing sound stopped, and the rental re-appeared, they hurriedly climbed into it. They were racing against the clock now. Only minutes had passed in real-time, but according to the map, Old Wagon Lane was a dead-end road, and the guards would soon come looking for them.
“What are we going to do if there are guards at the house?”
Dore shrugged. “Talk our way out of it?” He frowned. “Or go forward in time by three hours… and take the car with us.”
“Do we know how to do that?”
“We just strap the watch to the steering wheel.”
Kat shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea. We can park the rental in the garage. It’s certainly big enough.”
“OK,” he said impatiently. “Let’s go, Lass. Time’s a ticking.”
“What about the girls?”
“Tell them to come here. Ellie and Lily can park by the gate and tell us if anyone’s coming. Then they’ll have to play it by ear.”
She keyed in Lily’s cell phone number, but got Giselle. “Ellie, we may ha
ve found Grantham’s house. Drive down to Old Wagon Lane, turn into it and stop by a small wooded area. If you see anyone coming, call us.”
“What do you mean, if I see anyone coming? People live around here. They might be residents.”
“If they’re Grantham’s guards, they won’t behave like residents, so stay sharp.” She terminated the call.
Making their way out of the woods, they drove in the direction Grantham had gone and soon arrived at tall iron gates, but they weren’t closed; they were slightly open. In fact, by the look of the rusting hinges, they hadn’t been closed in years. Squeezing the compact rental through the narrow gap, they followed the driveway. Tufts of grass were sprouting from the central ridge, and the lawn on either side was going to seed, but there was no sign of any guards, so they pulled up beside the garage. It was a long, three-car garage with rolling doors, and by the look of them, they were frequently used. This had to be Grantham’s house, but he didn’t live here.
Getting out, she walked over to the enormous front doors. They were made of oak and had been detailed with black studs, old English style, but the varnish was peeling, and dead leaves were piled up against the crumbling steps. No one had lived here for fifty years. She walked back to the garage just as Dore was sliding open the doors. And there it was, Grantham’s Aston Martin, all shiny and impeccably clean. There was nothing else in the garage; it was otherwise empty. She put her hand on the hood. It was stone cold. But of course, it was Tuesday. As far as she knew, Grantham only traveled on a Sunday, which was why the guards were just going through the motions.
Nevertheless, if they’d taken jobs as gardeners at local houses, why weren’t they guarding the house? Had Grantham asked them not to draw attention to it? Or were they patrolling the enormous grounds and Kat simply hadn’t seen them?
She watched as Dore back the rental into the garage and heaved the door closed. She looked around. She could see many of the other houses from here, Giselle and Lily’s rental parked by the woods. But the community was silent. No children were playing, and no cars on the road. Maybe the children were at school, their parents all working, probably in the city. She looked at her watch. It was almost noon, the quietest time of the day.
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