by Terry Segan
He chuckled as if surprised. “I believe your Collector refers to me as ‘The Frenchman.’ You may call me, Francois.”
I remained standing. Though I sensed no malice in this man, his presence in my bedroom unnerved me. How had he come to be here? A tingle of excitement replaced my apprehension. If anyone could provide information, it was The Frenchman.
“Please,” he said, “but I’ve frightened you. That was not my intention. The kettle is at a boil. Perhaps we can adjourn to your kitchen for some tea and conversation?”
“Oh, yes. Tea. Yes, tea would be good.” I sounded like a moron. Where was Jimmy? Surely, he would have read my note last night. Maybe it angered him, and now I was on my own to sort this out. No, he wouldn’t do that, no matter how angry he may have gotten. He would know the only way to get help was for me to take this journey. We were out of options.
Francois stood and gestured for me to precede him through the door. Mustering a modicum of composure, I set down my purse and went downstairs to the kitchen. On the table sat two mugs with Earl Gray tea bags in them. Shades of my last meeting with Dede washed over me. I now felt the same confusion she must have when I told her how she would go about meeting Milton.
The tea kettle quietly whistled as it simmered over a low flame. How long had he been waiting for me in my house?
“Please,” he said, “allow me.” The Frenchman gestured for me to sit while he poured water into both mugs. “I do enjoy a good cup of tea. Do you not?”
“Uh, yes.” I waited as he placed the kettle on the stove then sat opposite me at the table.
“I’m sorry to have startled you, Mademoiselle. I did not mean to frighten you upon your return.”
Looking over to where I’d left the note for Jimmy, I saw it was gone. His eyes followed my gaze.
“Again, I am sorry, but I removed the note you left for your Collector. I need to speak to you alone first.”
Anger overtook me as I placed my hands flat on the table. “Why would you do that? What can you say to me and not Jimmy?”
“Ah, you have regained your composure. Good.” He sat back as if proud of this accomplishment.
“If that’s meant to soothe me, it doesn’t.”
I watched as he removed his teabag and placed it on the small dish beside the mug. Resigning myself to participate in his ritual, I did the same. We both drank. It struck me how he introduced himself to Jimmy and Carney the same way—over tea.
“How did you know I would be returning from a journey?”
“Did you not see me when you were at the door in San Francisco?”
Thinking for a moment about my last minutes in front of Mr. Chang’s shop, I remembered the glimpse of a white shirt, but nothing more.
“You were at the Jade Pagoda right before I returned here. It was you coming out of the back room, wasn’t it?”
“See? You know more than you realize.”
“You were the one Mr. Chang had to consult with?” It was a rhetorical question. I already knew the answer.
“Yes. He told me why you visited him. You know, Mademoiselle, you need to be careful how you use the slides. You came close to using them for personal gain.”
My voice rose in anger. It seemed he was trying to make me mad. “How is it personal gain when I’m trying to stop a lunatic?”
“Carney is a problem. I’d had high hopes for that one. He is special.”
“Special? In what way?”
“He is from one of the four original bloodlines. The Four Families, if you will. But that is not your concern.”
“He’s murdering my Betrotheds! I’d say anything having to do with him is my concern. Wouldn’t you?”
The Frenchman put his hands up in front of him in a gesture of surrender. “Some things have no bearing here—but you are right. We need to solve this. And quickly.”
“How do I trap him in time?”
“Chang told you about that? He should not have. I am not sure you should be the one.”
“Why not?” My eyes widened. He was here for a reason. If it wasn't to help me stop Carney, then why?
“Trapping someone in time is dangerous. I do not think you should attempt this.”
Shoving my chair away from the table, I walked across the kitchen. Fury engulfed me. He had the knowledge to help but wasn’t willing to share it. My tennis shoes squeaked on the tile as I whipped back around to face him again. “If not me, then who?” I spat.
“Mademoiselle, please, sit down.”
“I’ve had a stressful twenty-four hours. I’m tired, frustrated, and angry. I need answers. Now you’re telling me you know how to stop Carney, but don’t think I should be the one to do it. I’m not going to sit across a table from you having a pleasant conversation when a murderer is out there with a vendetta against Jimmy and me. Who knows how many more will die before he is stopped? This has gone way beyond polite conversation! Are you going to tell me what I need to know or not?”
We’d come to an impasse with me standing in front of him glaring, while he sat sipping his tea, his features calm.
“It seems you have a bit of a stubborn streak, no?” He smiled for the first time.
Unable to help myself, my lips returned the gesture. “Well, I’ve heard its part of my charm.”
This exacted a hearty laugh from Francois. “Now I see why you were chosen for this job. Having the ability to ‘roll with the punches’ as you Americans say, is a desirable trait. Do you not agree?”
“Yes, I guess I would. Not only with us Americans. You seem to have endured this game quite a while. When Jimmy told me about you, I thought he said you were…ah…what was the phrase he used? Oh yeah, leaving the arena. So why are you still here?”
“It has been a while since I have walked on a beach. May we continue our conversation out on your Strand?”
I saw no reason not to. Removing my denim jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, Francois followed me to the front door.
We headed down the hill to the beach in silence. Exaggerating a deep breath, he seemed to relish the ocean air.
When we reached the Strand and level ground I asked, “How long have you been in this game?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Humor me.”
“I never could resist a beautiful lady. I have been in this business for over 80 years.”
I did a double take. “How is that possible? You don’t look a day over 70.”
“You are too kind, Mademoiselle.” He bowed his head. “I am 112 years old.”
Stopping in shock, I stared, waiting for him to crack and say he was kidding. That admission never came. “How is that possible?”
“I am sure you suspected. Traveling through time seems to hinder the aging process. I guess you could say it is a happy side effect. The more jumps you make, the more years are erased.”
“That’s why Carney was able to pass himself off as a 42-year-old man, even though he is 65. He’s jumped many times, hasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
A flash of orange caught my eye as a plastic disc flew by, almost hitting Francois in the head. He instinctively ducked, then we both laughed. “What is that?” he asked.
“It's called a frisbee. Haven’t you seen them before? They’re very popular at the beach.”
“No. It looks quite fun.”
A young boy of about six raced past us, kicking up sand as he retrieved the disc. We watched as the child grabbed it and raced back the way he came, curling his arm in then out as he threw the frisbee toward an older boy. Overshooting his target, the boy watched as his playmate chased the toy down the beach. Both were giggling.
Pulling myself back to our conversation, I asked, “So you’ve made quite a few jumps through time, haven't you?”
“Yes.”
“How have you been able to do this? Like timing precisely when I would return today? Can emergency slides do that?”
He didn’t answer. A cloud seemed to overshadow him as he clasp
ed his hands behind his back, looking down at the pavement. I got the feeling information was not going to flow like it had.
“Sami. Sami!”
We both turned to see Jimmy striding along the Strand. From the flush of his face and furrowed brow, I could tell he was more than a little angry.
Chapter 18
As Jimmy hurried to us, he froze at the sight of Francois. “You! What are you doing here?”
“A pleasure to see you again, Monsieur.”
Jimmy’s body stiffened. “It’s been forty years. Why are you here now?” His face grew redder.
“Jimmy, please. He’s here to help us.”
As if suddenly remembering it was me he chased, Jimmy shifted his focus to my face. “I’ve been worried sick about you. With Carney on the loose, you should have left me a note that you went back.”
“Forgive me, sir. The note was in place when she traveled. I removed it. It seems my efforts to speak to the lady alone were for naught,” Francois said.
Placing my hand on Jimmy’s arm, a pang of guilt resonated through me. “You knew I went back. Now you know the two timelines.”
Taking a steadying breath, Jimmy shook his head. “No. There is only one timeline.”
“How can that be? I ran into your younger self at the Jade Pagoda.”
“That was how history went the first time. Of course, I didn’t realize who you were until we met a few years later.”
“Then why did you try to stop me from going back?”
His taut face softened as he looked into my eyes, “To keep you safe. With that monster on the loose, I had no way of knowing if he might follow you back.”
The frisbee flying in our direction distracted us. This time, the Frenchman reached out and grabbed the disc before it sailed into my shoulder. The young boy ran up and retrieved his toy with a mumbled thanks.
Francois said, “Perhaps we should wander out of the combat zone. Oui?” He gestured back the way we’d come.
Walking up the hill to my house, Jimmy took my hand, twining his fingers with mine. Even though he knew where, or rather when, I had gone, I sensed the worry within him. He hadn’t needed the note to know the time I would be returning; he remembered our encounter from 1979. The concern must stem from his not knowing exactly what date I departed this decade to go back.
“How did you know where to find me, honey? I mean down at the beach.”
“I didn’t. Pulling into your driveway, I saw you and a stranger heading down the hill.”
When we arrived back at the house, Francois settled into one of the wicker chairs.
“I very much like your front porch, Mademoiselle. Very peaceful.”
His casual attitude grated on my nerves. He behaved as if he were a friend dropping by for a visit.
Jimmy and I took seats next to each other, both looking expectantly at Francois. He didn’t take his cue to speak, so I turned to Jimmy. “Your grandfather was hesitant to help me.”
“I knew he would be. Did he, in the end?”
“Somewhat. He told me the only way to stop Carney is to trap him in time.”
Jimmy swiped his hand through his hair. “Trap him in time? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” I shifted my attention to Francois, “But I think you do.”
“I told you, Mademoiselle, it is not a task for you.”
I slapped both hands down on the arms of my chair. “Dammit, why not?”
“If you do not execute it just right, you could be trapped in time as well.”
“Tell us how to do this. We’ll weigh the risks,” I looked to Jimmy for support.
He chimed in, “Tell us what we need to do. We’ll handle it.”
The chair creaked as the Frenchman leaned back. He seemed to be debating the best course. His reluctance to share his knowledge struck me as strange since he came specifically to talk to me. What did he have to say that would require privacy?
“Well, isn't this a cozy little reunion?”
We all swiveled our heads as one toward the voice coming from the far end of the porch.
“Carney,” Jimmy seethed as he stood up. The color rose in his face.
“Good to see you, Jimmy. It’s been too many years.” He wore the same shorts and t-shirt from the other day in my studio. The stench of his musky cologne wafted across the porch. I grimaced as the odor conjured up the horrid memory of his last visit.
Carney casually leaned against the house with his arms crossed and focused his attention on the Frenchman. “And aren’t you a blast from the past, old man. Long time no see. Glad you made it out of the jungles of Nam. I’m happy to say you were right about the two of us surviving. Any more predictions to share with us today?”
Francois quietly stood up, but Carney wasn’t done speaking. “Tell me, what do I call you? The Frenchman feels so…what’s the word…clandestine? I could call you Francois. Or would you prefer…Grandpa?”
“What!” I jumped to my feet. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“So, you know,” replied Francois calmly, looking at our intruder.
My voice escalated to a hysterical level. “He’s your grandson? This man is your flesh and blood? When were you going to tell us? Or was that information we didn’t need to know, Francois?”
“Mademoiselle, please. It will be all right.”
“Your grandson is a murderer. How can that be all right?”
Gesturing with his hands, palms down, Jimmy said “Sami, calm down. We need to sort this out.”
“Yes, Jimmy,” Carney mocked, “let’s calmly sort this out. You always were a problem solver.”
“So, Todd, tell me how you discovered I am your grandfather.” Francois appeared unruffled by this scene as if he expected Carney to show up.
“Don’t call me that! My name is Carney.”
“As you wish…Carney. Tell me.”
“While looking through old family photographs years ago, after we’d met in Viet Nam. Mom told me you were her father. She never knew you because you abandoned Grandma before she was born. Guess you weren’t exactly a role model, were you?”
Francois said, “Perhaps that is a story for another time.”
Carney continued, ignoring Francois’ attempt to interject. “I also had an interesting conversation with an Italian chap. He was very helpful. Too bad his usefulness ended. I hear the authorities never identified his body, the poor soul. He had done a bad thing anyway, so I guess it was really justice in the end. Or I should say, for his end.” He smirked as he reminisced.
“Right now, shall we talk about your inappropriate behavior? It needs to end.” Francois remained matter-of-fact.
Carney pushed off from the wall of the house. “Hmmmm...inappropriate. That’s an interesting way to phrase it.” As he walked to the outer edge of the porch, Carney’s sneakers scuffed across the boards. He stopped and leaned against a post. “I would rather discuss what this little meeting is about. You’re talking about me, aren’t you? Please, do share! What clever plan have you come up with to stop my diabolical ways?”
“This isn’t a game. You’re killing innocent women.” My fists clenched. Anger won out over the fear pulsing through me.
His voice escalated. “Just like my April was innocent. And Jimmy killed her!”
Jimmy stomped down on the floor with one foot. “You were the one that tried to take her back against her will! It was you she had to run from!”
I placed my hand on Jimmy’s arm. This distracted him enough to look at me and take a deep breath. He visibly calmed down, though his shaking hands told me his anger festered below the surface. We had no idea where Carney was going with this conversation or why he was even here. Loss of control could only aggravate the situation.
“You shouldn’t have meddled,” he said still looking at Jimmy. “My April was just fine. It was you who caused all our problems with your friendship. I know you were trying to take her from me. You were always jealous. It’s because of you she’s
dead!”
Carney pulled a hand gun out of his pocket and aimed it at me. I froze as fear radiated through my body. “Maybe you need to know what it feels like to lose someone so dear. Perhaps life without your sweet Sami is something you should experience.”
Jimmy reached to pull me behind him. A shot blasted out. I heard a thud on the boards behind us.
Turning around, Francois laid face down on the porch.
My gaze flew back toward Carney and his weapon. I was afraid to move.
“Dang,” he said, “I guess I missed…this time.” A satanic grin spread across his face as he disappeared.
I ran to the Frenchman and knelt. Jimmy helped me roll him over. Blood oozed from his chest.
“Hold on, Francois. We’ll get you help.” I pressed my hand over the wound and applied as much pressure as I could, but it didn’t staunch the flow. I felt helpless.
Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. “You must…” His voice faded to a harsh whisper.
“Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy said, pulling his cell phone out of his back pocket. “Save your strength. We’ll get you help.”
He whispered. “You must listen.” He put his hand on mine.
I looked at Jimmy and shook my head. Though I didn’t have any medical training, I knew the wound was fatal. “Francois, please.” I pleaded, not sure if I wanted him to be still or tell us what he could before time ran out.
He struggled for breath. “Please…,” his voice weak, yet he persisted. “You must…you must stop him. Set them…same date…same location…same...” His voice gurgled, but he continued to try.
Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, I was desperate to extract whatever information he could manage. “How do we set more than one date and location?”
“Both…set them…same date…same location…zero time.”
“What do you mean them?” I asked quietly. Mr. Chang had referred to slides allowing someone to set a specific date and place; I assumed he was referring to one of those.
Jimmy didn’t know about them yet. He asked, “What are you talking about? We don’t have any control over the dates or places. Francois, you’re not making sense.”