A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8)

by Monique Martin

  “Look up into the face that saw it all,” Elizabeth read and shook her head. “A statue?”

  “A billboard?”

  “Clocks have faces,” Charlotte said.

  Elizabeth gasped out loud and then grinned. “Yes! They do. And we were right in front of one. The clock tower on the Ferry Building. It was right there. It’s huge. I could kiss you!” she said to Charlotte. “I think I will.”

  And with that she gave Charlotte a loud kiss on the cheek, giving the girl a welcomed fit of giggles.

  “Beautiful and smart,” Elizabeth said.

  Charlotte beamed. “What do we do now?”

  Simon sighed. “Return to San Francisco, I suppose.”

  Charlotte grinned, but it was soon overpowered by a huge, gaping yawn.

  “Tomorrow,” Simon amended. “For now, bed.”

  ~~~

  Simon watched from the doorway as Elizabeth set about tucking Charlotte in. It was as if she’d done it a thousand times. And as he leaned against the door frame, he hoped she would. He was sure he’d never tire of seeing it.

  “All right?” Elizabeth asked as she smoothed out the edge of the turned down sheet.

  Charlotte nodded. “I can put myself to bed, ya know?”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said, pulling away a bit. “I’m sorry.”

  “But, it’s nice anyway.”

  Elizabeth smiled down at her and kissed her forehead before looking across the room at Simon. “Aren’t you going to say goodnight?”

  Simon pushed himself off the doorway, and under the gaze of both of them felt suddenly awkward and far out of his element. He took a few halting steps forward. “Good night.”

  Elizabeth snorted and she and Charlotte shared a small smile at his expense.

  “Give him time,” she whispered.

  Charlotte pushed herself up onto an elbow and regarded him quite seriously. “Don’t worry. You learn to love me eventually.”

  Her words hit him square in the chest. He closed the short distance between them. “I do not think that will be a problem,” he said, his voice betraying the depth of his emotion.

  He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I loved you before we even met.”

  She looked at him quizzically.

  “You were just a dream in our hearts,” he said. “But you were as real to me then as you are to me now. And I could not love you more. Never doubt that.”

  Charlotte’s eyes filled with emotion and she glanced at Elizabeth.

  “He’s okay, isn’t he?” Elizabeth said, the same softness in her eyes.

  Charlotte nodded.

  Simon leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Charlotte.”

  She snuggled down into her covers, and Simon and Elizabeth started for the door.

  “On or off?” Elizabeth asked, her hand lingering by the light switch.

  “On,” Charlotte said. “Just for tonight.”

  Elizabeth nodded in understanding and joined Simon in the hallway. Silently, they made their way toward their bedroom. Once inside, Elizabeth pulled him in for a hug and a kiss that made him pull her more tightly into his arms.

  When they finally pulled apart Simon asked, “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “You and Charlotte. I think my ovaries exploded.”

  Simon made a face. “And that’s good?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, very good. You are so sexy.”

  Simon snorted.

  “Especially when you snort,” she teased.

  “Elizabeth…”

  She laughed and kissed him again before starting to undress. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

  Simon crossed over to the edge of their walk-in closet, unbuckling his belt as he went. “In what way?”

  “With Charlotte. Knowing Teddy, this isn’t going to be a one-stop deal.”

  Simon paused and thought about that. She was undoubtedly right. If Teddy had wanted to make it easy for them to find it, he would have. In fact, he could have simply given it to them.

  He hung up his belt and unbuttoned his cuffs as he wondered aloud, “Why do you think he left the note in the book? Why not just tell us about it? Or he could have rung the doorbell. At least let us know he was here. Why the secrecy?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he wanted it be hard to find, even for us.”

  Simon took off his shirt and tossed it in a hamper.

  “I suppose he could be trying to protect us. What we don’t know can’t hurt us.”

  He took off his shoes, put shoe trees inside them and set them aside. He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

  “I’m not sure what I’d do if I’d known we had the information to find such a powerful device sitting in our library.”

  Elizabeth walked past him on her way to the closet. She paused and turned back to face him. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell us. It would be like a black cloud hanging over us.”

  Simon grunted in response. “I suppose. Either way, that storm’s about to break, isn’t it?”

  Elizabeth tossed something into the closet that Simon was sure didn’t come near the hamper. “And that,” she said, reappearing, “brings us back to Charlotte. Do you think we should take her with us?”

  “As opposed to?”

  “I don’t know. Finding some safe place for her while we do our best National Treasure impression.”

  “Isn’t there a better movie comparison?” Simon asked and frowned and shook his head dramatically for Elizabeth’s benefit. “Nicholas Cage?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Indiana Jones?”

  “Better.”

  Elizabeth smiled but grew serious again. “It’s going be dangerous. We’re not the only ones looking, after all.”

  Simon had thought of that. To be honest, he hadn’t stopped thinking of that. “I know. It’s just…”

  Elizabeth sat down next to him. “You don’t want her out of your sight?”

  Simon nodded and turned to her. “There’s no one who’s going to take better care of her than we will. And with Jack off on whatever Travers’ mission is, there’s no one I trust. Not with her. Not now.”

  “Agreed.”

  “All we can hope is that Teddy didn’t become too enamored with the idea of this particular puzzle.”

  Elizabeth arched a skeptical brow. “Yeah. A child-like mad scientist with OCD and a penchant for games; he wouldn’t overdo it, would he?”

  Simon frowned in displeasure. “God help us.”

  Chapter Six

  JACK PLUCKED A PIECE of lint from his pants leg and flicked it onto the carpet of Travers’ office. He’d been waiting ten minutes so far. Not that he really minded, the view wasn’t bad at all.

  Travers’ secretary, Grace Mills, was a beautiful woman who had no idea she was beautiful at all. No pretense, no games. Just a flower needing a little water to bloom.

  Behind her retro horn-rimmed glasses and shy smile, he was sure a helluva woman was lurking. She caught him staring and smiled across the small outer office at him.

  “I’m sorry he’s keeping you waiting so long. It’s been crazy around here.”

  “I don’t mind,” Jack said. “Passing the time with a beautiful woman isn’t so bad.”

  She laughed, embarrassed but pleased.

  “You been working for the Council long?”

  “A few years,” she said. “I was Mr. Travers’ assistant before…” Her eyes darted away and she cleared her throat as she searched for the words.

  “His promotion?” Jack provided, knowing she was really referring to Alistair Martel’s death instead.

  She nodded quickly, giving him a grateful smile.

  “Must be high pressure, working for the Big Cheese?”

  “Oh, it is, but Mr. Travers is just wonderful.”

  She cast a quick eye toward the closed door that led to the inner office and smiled to herself. “He’s—”

  The doo
r to the office opened and Travers’ small frame appeared. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Wells.”

  “Jack,” he corrected as he stood. “It’s all right. Grace kept me company.”

  He glanced toward her, expecting a shy smile. He got one, but it wasn’t for him. Grace’s attention was fully absorbed with Peter Travers. All five foot five of him.

  Travers nodded, distracted, not seeing the brief, but adoring way his secretary looked at him. It was not lost on Jack, however. He’d seen that look many times, had been on the receiving end of it more than his fair share. Travers was a lucky man, even if he didn’t know it, which, judging from his complete lack of eye contact with Grace, was a safe bet.

  Grace’s smile faltered slightly as Travers turned, ignoring Jack’s comment and disappeared back into his office.

  “Mr. Wells,” Travers called from inside.

  Jack winked at Grace and joined Travers, shutting the door behind him. He was halfway into the room before he realized he and Travers weren’t alone. Sitting in one of the large chairs near Travers’ desk was another beautiful woman. She stood as he came toward her.

  “Tess, this is Mr. Wells. The one I’ve been telling you about.”

  Tess shook Jack’s hand. It was a firm, confident handshake, but still somehow soft and inviting. This was no hothouse flower like Grace. This was a woman who knew her mind and herself. And with green eyes like that, Jack wished he did as well.

  As he always did when he met someone new, he gave her a quick study. She was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. Reddish, shoulder length hair and pale skin. Her mouth was broad and full, and her eyes were a grayish green, sharp and beautiful—and studying him right back.

  Her eyes danced over him, quickly taking him in, measuring. Apparently, he measured up because a small smile came to her lips.

  “Mr. Wells.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss…?”

  “Martel,” Travers supplied. He gestured to Jack to take the chair next to hers.

  Jack raised a brow. “As in Alistair Martel?”

  “He was my father,” Tess said, her voice betraying her emotions.

  So she was the ex, very ex, director’s daughter. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

  Travers cleared his throat and brought Jack’s attention back to the matter at hand.

  “We all miss Alistair terribly,” Travers said. “I wish he were here for so many reasons.”

  Poor Travers, he looked like he’d aged a year since yesterday.

  “I’m not him, but I’ll do what I can to help,” Jack offered.

  Travers cast his eyes down and nodded. “And I thank you for that. As I mentioned yesterday, we are in need of a man with your particular set of skills.”

  He dug through the absolute disaster area that was his desk and pulled out a folder. He put it on top of the pile of papers and placed his hands on top of it. “It’s a very important thing I’m about to ask you to do, Mr. Wells. Some are hesitant,” he added, his eyes shifting almost imperceptibly toward Tess. “They think it unwise to involve an outsider. I, for one, think it’s our only hope.”

  “No pressure,” Jack said with a grin.

  Travers chuckled. “Yes.” He stood and extended the folder across his desk. Jack stood and took it from him.

  “That portfolio should bring you up to speed on everything we know about Drasko Skavo.”

  Jack opened the folder. “What sort of name is that? Skavo?”

  “Serbian,” Tess said. “He was recruited by just about every former Eastern Bloc nation, and a few in the West. Brilliant scientists are more desirable than any cache of Uranium. Skavo excelled in every field he studied, from mechanical engineering to applied physics.”

  “Some called him the next Tesla,” Travers said.

  That was impressive. And worrying. “So, who finally got him?”

  “A private consortium,” Travers said. “Which we have subsequently learned was funded by the Council.”

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “But not you?”

  “Yes, the Shadow Council had a few side projects back in the nineties and Skavo’s was by far the most important. And troubling. By all accounts, before he disappeared, he’d come close to duplicating one of the time travel watches. If he did, it would only be a matter of time before he could replicate the thirteenth.”

  Jack glanced at Tess. For something that was supposed to be super-secret, Travers was being pretty free with it. Tess raised her brow at him in return.

  Sensing Jack’s unasked question, Travers held up his hand. “Tess is well acquainted with our…problem. She’s the one who told me about the journal and its theft.”

  Jack nodded. “Okay, fair enough.” He closed the folder; there would be time to study it later. “Why’d Skavo disappear? Are you sure he wasn’t killed?”

  “We’re sure. Our contacts at the time said that he had grown uneasy with the project. We’ve surmised that he fled to keep from completing it.”

  “And now he’s shown up again?”

  Travers frowned. “Yes. There was a sighting last week. I tried to verify it, but there’s no security footage, I’m afraid. I sent my two best men,” he added his eyes sliding to Tess and then back to him. “Jason Saunders and David Quint.”

  He paused and cleared his throat, then handed Jack a slender dossier.

  Inside were pictures of the two agents. Saunders was young, late twenties, sandy brown hair and an open face. Quint was maybe mid-forties, short blond hair and a lantern jaw.

  “Saunders’ body was found on the shores of the Bosphorus three days ago.”

  Jack looked up from the dossier.

  “And when Quint failed to check in…” Travers said, his eyes briefly landing on Tess again. Tess looked down at her clasped hands. Clearly, there was some connection between the two.

  “That’s not like him, I take it?” Jack prompted and glanced down at the photo. “He looks ex-military.”

  “He spent ten years in the Marines before he joined the Council,” Tess said.

  Travers smiled sadly. “Yes. Saunders was relatively new, but Quint was a very experienced operative. In fact, many thought he should have replaced Alistair as director, instead of me.” His face fell again. “Perhaps they were right.”

  Jack knew how Travers felt. He’d sent men on missions they didn’t return from. Right choice or wrong, it haunted the man responsible.

  “Tough times call for tough decisions,” Jack said. “I doubt you’d be sitting in that chair if they didn’t think you’d make the best ones possible.”

  Travers nodded. “I’d never sent men to their deaths before.”

  He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter.

  “But here you are doing it again? Jack supplied. “Minus the dying, hopefully.”

  Travers nodded. “Hopefully,” he said with a small smile.

  Jack flipped through the dossier and found two more pictures, presumably of Skavo.

  “So,” Jack said, “you want me to pick up the trail. Find Skavo.”

  “Quite simply, yes.”

  “Simply,” Jack said with a small laugh as he closed the dossier.

  “Yes, well…” Travers said, a little embarrassed. “Will you do it?”

  Jack knew what they were asking was dangerous and damned important. And it felt good.

  “I’ll try.”

  Travers stood. “Thank you. I’ve got a charter on stand-by. You’ll both leave—”

  “Both?” Jack said as he stood. He glanced over at Tess whose expression was confident and even a little amused.

  “I work better alone. No offense,” he said.

  “Funny. I said the same thing,” Tess said with a grin. “But, two heads are better than one, and other clichés. Besides, my father was at the heart of this. I know he’d want me to go. And I won’t let him down. Not now.”

  “We can’t afford to fail here,” Travers said. “
If the Shadow Council should have the same intel I do, and at this point I have no reason to think otherwise, need I impress upon you what’s at stake here?”

  “I fought the Nazis. World domination, I get.”

  “I need my best people on this,” Travers continued. “And you two are it.” He sat back down heavily. “And I mean it. There’s no one else.”

  He looked small and defeated, and it was no wonder. Having the fate of the world on his shoulders tended to press a man down.

  “Well?” Tess said, turning to him.

  “Have you ever done this sort of thing before?” he asked.

  “This exact sort of thing? No.”

  Travers came around his desk. “Tess is one of our best field agents. She can hold her own.”

  Jack still had his misgivings, but it looked like there wasn’t much of a choice in the matter being offered.

  “All right, then,” Jack said as he stuck out his hand and grinned. “Partner.”

  She smiled back, shook his hand and then turned to Travers. “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “And where exactly are we going?” Jack asked.

  “Istanbul.”

  Chapter Seven

  “THIS WILL NEVER WORK,” Simon grumbled under his breath.

  “It will,” Elizabeth assured him. “Just be extra British.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even know what that—”

  “Sir Simon!”

  Elizabeth turned to see a very large man shuffling through the crowd in the entryway of the Ferry Building. It took some effort for him to weave his girth through the throng. It was a warm, beautiful late summer’s day and the Ferry Building was crowded with tourists.

  One of the few buildings to survive the 1906 earthquake and fire, the Ferry Building was immense and grand. They stood in the huge nave as long as two football fields with a skylight that ran nearly the length of it. In the years since the quake it had become more than a place to catch ferries. Inside the building was a bustling marketplace with food shops of every variety lining the sides.

  Elizabeth caught a whiff of something and turned to see a man walking by with some sort of meat on a stick and another with a freshly baked pastry. Her stomach gurgled with envy. She knew she should have eaten before they’d come.