A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7)

by Monique Martin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A Note to Readers

  A RIP IN TIME

  (Out of Time, Book 7)

  Copyright Notice

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Monique Martin

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission.

  Cover Photo: Karen Wunderman

  Cover Layout: TERyvisions

  For more information, please contact

  writtenbymonique@gmail.com

  Or visit: www.moniquemartin.weebly.com

  ~~~

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  THIS BOOK WOULD not have been possible without the help and support of many people. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Robin without whom this book wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun to write or half as much fun to read, Michael, Mom & George, Dad & Anne, Eddie & Carole, Melissa, JM, Cynthia, Lyndsay, Laura, the Council, and the Diaspora.

  I’d also like to thank the thousands of people who help preserve the past through books, websites, museums and sheer will.

  Chapter One

  FOR THE BRIEFEST MOMENT, the world stopped. Before Elizabeth could put a name to the feeling that sank to the pit of her stomach, it stuttered and restarted.

  Chalking it up to fatigue, she shook off the last remnants of the fuzzy-headedness that always came with traveling in time and looked around her living room. It was, as she knew it would be, exactly as they’d left it. In the room, in the present, nothing had changed, no time had even elapsed. The odd disconnect between the busy streets of Cairo and the quiet of their home made the last few weeks they’d spent in Egypt feel like a dream.

  But the men on either side of her were a stark reminder that it had been no dream. The bruises on Simon’s face had yet to fully fade away, and the worry in his eyes had taken up permanent residence. And Jack; his smile for her was as real as the sling supporting the arm that had been shot just days before.

  Appearing distracted for a moment, Simon then focused on her and squeezed her hand. “All right?”

  She nodded. He let go, closed the watch and slipped it into his pocket.

  He glanced at Jack, all business now. “I want to leave here in less than an hour. Can you manage?”

  Jack nodded and slid his arm from its sling. He worked it around in a small circle, wincing as he did. “Yeah.”

  They’d made plans as they rode away from Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo to a secluded spot where they could make their return to the present. Elizabeth hadn’t liked it then and she didn’t like it now. But there was no arguing with the logic of it. They weren’t safe here. Not as long as Katherine Vale was out there.

  Jack glanced at Elizabeth and then back to Simon. “I’ll be back before an hour’s up.”

  “Good,” Simon said curtly before heading for the kitchen.

  Jack lingered for a moment and gave Elizabeth a comforting smile, but it wasn’t one she could return.

  Gosh, she hated this. She was tired and hungry and there was still sand in places sand should never be. She wanted to take a bath and then sleep through the weekend. But none of that was going to be. They were home, but they weren’t staying there. Not even for an hour.

  Jack’s smile grew even kinder. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  Elizabeth nodded quickly and he gave her arm a comforting squeeze as he passed her heading for the front door.

  Don’t worry, she thought as he left. That wasn’t likely. Not for any of them.

  There was nothing quite like having a murdering psychopath on the loose, one who hated your very guts, to foster a healthy sense of worry.

  At first she’d hoped they might be safe at home. Peter Travers from the Council had deactivated the device that tracked the watches and Katherine Vale had no idea where or when she and Simon lived. But she was resourceful and evil, and that was a very bad combination. Elizabeth quickly realized that finding them wouldn’t exactly take a Holmesian effort.

  She and Simon had made no attempt to hide who they were. They’d used their real names and in the twenty-first century finding someone was as easy as opening a web browser. Everything they did, who they were, was saved in perpetuity in the ether. Heck, even the university had their pictures and names emblazoned on its website. Finding them would be child’s play.

  The only thing working in their favor was that Vale hated Charles Graham even more than she hated them. She’d spent every waking moment since escaping from Bedlam trying to kill him. First, she’d tried to murder his great grandfather in 1906 San Francisco. When that had failed, thanks to Simon and Elizabeth, she’d set out again in search of Graham himself.

  Graham was no idiot though, and went on the run, forcing Vale to try any means to find him, including trying to summon the goddess Sekhmet in 1920s Cairo. Once again, Simon and Elizabeth were there to stop her.

  But had they really? They’d saved the day, but all they’d really managed to do was to delay her a bit longer and make sure her hatred for them grew that much more. And now she was out there, somewhere, plotting her revenge and Elizabeth knew that she and Simon would be playing a role in her Spectacle of Crazy whether they liked it or not.

  “Elizabeth?” Simon called from the kitchen. “We don’t exactly have time to waste.”

  She started and turned to look at him on the other side of the pass-through window that linked the two rooms. “Sorry. I’ll pack.”

  Simon closed the drawer he’d been rummaging through. “Keep it light. We want to able to stay on the move easily.”

  She nodded and swallowed down how much she hated that. She hated running. Even though it was the smart thing to do, the only thing to do when a lunatic was out there hunting you, she bristled at the idea of it and wondered if it would ever end.

  Simon rejoined her in the living room, pocketing a small key as he did. “It won’t be forever,” he said, as though he’d read her mind.

  “I know,” Elizabeth said, even though she didn’t. With a sigh, she started for the stairs. Simon caught her hand in his as she passed.

  “It will be all right,” he said.

  “Promise?”

  She’d said it playfully, but Simon’s eyes grew dark. She knew he couldn’t promise her that any more than he could promise to stop the tide, and yet he would because she needed him to.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Elizabeth knew that one
word wasn’t a false assurance made just to quiet her fears. It was a promise he meant to keep. No matter what the cost.

  ~~~

  Elizabeth pulled their luggage out from an upstairs closet and stared down at it. Somehow, going on the run and their Tumi luggage set didn’t seem to go together. They needed something “on the runnier.”

  She rolled the Tumi aside and dug around in the closet. There weren’t many choices. Most of their traveling was done by unconventional methods and was to places that steamer trunks were less likely to stand out. Heck, they had two trunks downstairs in the living room filled with 1920s clothes and a few more in the garage, but they were hardly helpful. What they needed was something light and maneuverable, like a duffle bag, but Simon wasn’t the duffle bag type.

  After a little more searching she found not one, but two duffle bags resting on the very top shelves in the very back of the closet. Odd, she thought. She’d never noticed them before.

  She pulled the small stepladder over to the shelves and started to climb, but a wave of dizziness overtook her and she gripped the edges of the shelves for balance. It passed quickly enough, but when she opened her eyes she had an odd sense of disorientation. It was as though she were in a dream, a strange sensation of being in her home, but at the same time it wasn’t her home. The feeling lasted only for a few moments and she shook her head and the feeling passed.

  Clearly, she needed a nap stat. But there was no time to rest yet. She climbed up to the top step. One bag was floppy and empty, but the other was heavy, perhaps half-full. Dropping it to the floor, she climbed down and then knelt next to it.

  Her heart beat a little faster as she unzipped it.

  Inside she found a first aid kit, tablets to make water potable, an all-purpose tool, two space blankets, a tarp, four rolls of duct tape, flashlights, and extra batteries. Maybe she shouldn’t have suggested they start watching the Walking Dead, she thought. When she found the big Bowie knife, the gun with two extra clips and ten thousand dollars cash, she was sure of it.

  “Ah, good,” Simon said behind her. “You found it.”

  Elizabeth looked at him dumbly.

  Simon arched an eyebrow. “I live in California,” he said in answer to her unasked question. “There are earthquakes, forest fires and riots. And, need I add, you.”

  He took the 9mm clip out of her hand and put it back in the bag and zipped it up. “Having a go bag seemed like a good idea.”

  Elizabeth was still trying to come to terms with Simon having a go bag when he reached out a hand to help her up.

  “About that packing…”

  Elizabeth winnowed their clothes down to the mere essentials. Jack returned as promised, and the three of them were ready to head out. They needed to stop at the bank to get the additional cash Simon had squirreled away in their safety deposit box. After that, they’d head east and find an out of the way hotel to stay in for the night. Then, they’d come up with a plan.

  They knew they couldn’t stay on the run, that they’d have to take the fight to Katherine Vale, find her before she found them, but they had nothing to go on. They had no way to contact the Council and it wasn’t exactly the sort to be listed in the Yellow Pages under Organizations, Secret. Not to mention that they might be the very ones behind all of this.

  Simon lifted both duffle bags. “Ready?”

  Jack nodded and slung his bag over his good shoulder.

  Elizabeth could see the effort it took. “Let me.”

  She held out her hands to take his bag, but Jack just smiled. “And lose my man card? Come on, kid.”

  A knock on the front door stopped Elizabeth’s argument, and the three of them froze for a second before she looked to Simon.

  He nodded toward the hallway, urging her to hide there. She ignored him and tiptoed over to the fireplace and picked up a poker. Simon glared at her, but the knock at the door came again and pulled his attention away.

  Jack unholstered his gun and took up a position behind the door. Simon edged closer and tried to peer through the side windows, but couldn’t see anything. Carefully, he moved in front of the door and looked out of the peep hole.

  Elizabeth saw his shoulders rise and fall and heard the exhalation of breath, both relieved and annoyed.

  He waved for Jack to stand down and then yanked open the door.

  Standing nervously on the front steps was a slight, balding man with black-rimmed glasses. He offered them a faltering smile that Simon did not return.

  “Travers.”

  Chapter Two

  PETER TRAVERS CLUTCHED HIS briefcase to his chest like a shield against Simon’s glare. While he was relieved they didn’t have to track down the Council now, a knock on the door from a Council member was never a harbinger of anything remotely good.

  The man’s thin lips quivered as he tried again to smile. Not finding one in return, he leaned to the side, peering around to see Elizabeth. “Mrs. Cross,” he said in that thin, squeaky voice of his.

  “Mr. Travers,” Elizabeth said. “Come in.”

  Travers looked up nervously at Simon for permission. Simon lingered in place for a moment, blocking his path. Unfortunately, as loath as he was to let this weaselly little man into their home, they would need his help if they were to find Katherine Vale.

  Travers cleared his throat and kept his gaze down as he turned his body sideways and inched past Simon and into the foyer.

  Simon heard Jack’s low, amused chuckle in the background.

  “Thank you,” Travers said. “I—I was hoping I’d catch you.”

  Simon closed the door and turned to face him. “Were you?”

  “Y-yes,” Travers stammered anxiously as he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “I know what happened in Egypt, with, uhm—”

  Simon strode forward, quickly closing the small distance between them. He’d never trusted the Council, and with damn good reason. He’d suspected someone in the so-called Shadow Council, a mysterious and corrupt group inside the Council proper, was responsible for Katherine Vale’s untimely appearance in Cairo. And Travers, well, his truth was never the whole truth and the parts that were missing seemed inclined to get them killed.

  “And just how do you know that? Did you send her?”

  “Vale?” Travers squeaked. “Oh my goodness, no. I—I don’t know who was responsible for that, but we have bigger problems, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s a habit with you guys, isn’t it?” Jack said.

  Travers turned, startled, and then smiled broadly in recognition. “Oh! Mr. Wells. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Although Jack’s body language was casual as he leaned against the wall, Simon was pleased to note that he still had his gun in hand. Jack pushed himself off the wall and shifted his eyes anxiously from Travers to Elizabeth and back again. “Yeah?”

  “I’m a bit of a World War II nut,” Travers said with a blush crawling up his neck. “Models and things mostly. They’re not very good, but a chance to speak to a real live OSS man…”

  Jack stared back at him blankly.

  Before Travers could begin to gush, Simon forced him back on topic. “Mr. Travers.”

  “Oh, sorry. Right—”

  “Do you know where Katherine Vale is?” Elizabeth asked abruptly.

  Simon had planned on being a bit more circumspect in his questions, but leave it to Elizabeth to cut to the very heart of the matter.

  Travers blinked at her directness, but the forthright question seemed to pull him back to himself and the seriousness of the situation. He straightened his back and stood as tall as his little frame would allow.

  “I do.”

  Simon waited a moment. “And are you going to tell us?”

  “I’d rather show you.”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. “And why on earth should we trust you?”

  Travers’ small round face wrinkled in thought as he took off his glasses. “No reason at all, I suppose,” he said softly before sliding h
is spectacles back onto his face. “But I sincerely hope you do. Without your help, I shudder to think of the consequences.”

  Simon glanced over at Elizabeth and recognized her expression. She was already standing on the lip of the frying pan, planning her swan dive down into the fire.

  She, Jack and Simon exchanged glances, but in the end, Simon knew they had little choice. If they were ever to rest again, they had to find Katherine Vale. If that meant going along with Travers for now, they simply could not say no.

  “And just where will you be taking us?” Simon asked.

  “San Francisco.” Travers’ nervous smile returned. “HQ. The…the headquarters for the Council for Temporal Studies.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth knew she shouldn’t be excited by it all. They were traveling with a man they didn’t really trust to a city where they’d nearly been killed to see a woman who wanted them dead. It had “last trip you’ll ever take” written all over it. Despite that, Elizabeth was relieved to be going, relieved to be doing something, anything, other than running. Of course, Simon had pointed out that they were running, just into the jaws of death instead of away from them, but she knew deep down he felt the same way. A life on the run was no life at all.

  The charter flight took less than two hours, and before they knew it she, Simon and Jack were riding in the back of a town car through the streets of San Francisco. It brought back an onslaught of memories.

  She’d often wondered what happened to the Eldridges and Gerald, and Max and Teddy. They’d long since passed by now, but she liked to think of them out there alive and happy, somewhere, somewhen.

  The last time they’d been in San Francisco, the city had been destroyed by the Great Earthquake and was in the process of being engulfed by dozens of enormous fires. The city that passed by her window showed no scars. It had risen, literally, from the ashes, and was born again.

  As they turned down Market Street, Elizabeth took heart in the courage of the city. It, like them, had been knocked down, but it wasn’t out. And neither were they.