A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8)

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A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8) Page 12

by Monique Martin


  Charlotte nodded. “I was born in July here, but it was Valentine’s Day back home.”

  “Right. But ‘on a ridge that ran red.’ That’s a bit more problematic,” he said as he looked at the map. There were half a dozen ridges and he was fairly certain all of them had run red with blood. “We can’t possibly search them all.”

  Elizabeth turned to look around the atrium. “We’re gonna need help. Someone like Chet.”

  “Chet?”

  Simon turned and saw an older gentleman with a gentle paunch and white mustache. He wore a Gettysburg cap and blue shirt with a patch on his shoulder and a name tag. He smiled at them.

  “Chet it is.”

  ~~~

  Chet, their Licensed Battlefield Guide, accept no substitutes, was pleased as punch to show them around. After the fee was taken care of, Chet escorted them back to their car. Gettysburg was far too big to do on foot, he said and Elizabeth had that sinking feeling again.

  “Are there any special ridges we should see?” Elizabeth asked, hoping to narrow down the search.

  “Oh, yes,” Chet said.

  Elizabeth’s heart lightened.

  “Quite a few.”

  And then sunk again.

  “There’s Knoxlyn, Lohr’s, Whistler’s, McPherson and Herr, Cemetery and Oak, Seminary…”

  And then it sunk a little further. How in Hades were they going to find the right ridge when the place was essentially a collection of ridges?

  She got in the back seat with Charlotte as Chet continued on. “…Houck’s and School-House. I think that’s all of them. Let’s see,” he said and started to tick them off on his fingers. “Knoxlyn, Lohr’s—”

  “Impressive,” Simon said, casting a quick glance at Elizabeth in the rearview mirror. “Perhaps we should begin?”

  Chet slapped his thighs. “Right. Make the first right,” he said, pointing toward a nearby road. “For four long days in the hot July sun of 1863, the Union and Confederate armies fought in the largest and bloodiest battle of the Civil War. It is not too fine a point to put on it all to say that the future of America was forged right here.”

  Simon drove slowly along the route Chet designated. They got out at various stops along the way to get a better look at monuments and walk the grounds. Forested areas, farm fields and hillsides were the sites of horrible clashes where boys and old men fought side by side, and died that way. Today, there was no evidence of the fighting. The trees had returned and the battlefields were maintained as open areas of green grass honoring regiments from both north and south. It was peaceful with lush meadows and trees. Split rail fences marked off what had been someone’s home and property. Buildings, barns, churches, anything available, had been turned into military headquarters and field hospitals.

  The sensation of standing on Hallowed Ground was strong. Elizabeth had read ghost stories about places like Gettysburg, but she’d never given them much credence, until now. This place was filled with more than memories and she shuddered as a cool breeze tickled her skin. At least she hoped it was a cool breeze.

  It was at their fourth stop that they’d reached Oak Ridge. It was where the end of the first day’s battle had been. Simon asked Chet to give them a moment alone.

  He pulled Elizabeth and Charlotte aside under the shade of a great Oak. “We won’t find anything this way,” he said and then turned to Charlotte. “There must be something else. Some detail you’re forgetting?”

  Charlotte frowned in thought. “Mom and Dad didn’t talk about it much. I think it scared them.”

  Simon arched an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Think, Charlotte,” Elizabeth urged her. “Just some little thing that can help us narrow it down.”

  She concentrated for a moment. “It was in a hospital.”

  “That’s good!” Simon said.

  “Well, there was a doctor. I remember Dad mentioning him and there was a school or something nearby.”

  “He did mention a School-House ridge,” Elizabeth said. “It’s worth a shot.”

  With a little convincing they got Chet to go off script and visit sites out of the usual order. Elizabeth had high hopes for School-House ridge, and they piled out of the car and hurried toward the plaque marking the site. She looked for the tell-tale moon, but there was none to be found.

  On one side of the road was a thick forest and on the other was a wide open field.

  “The school house? Is it close?”

  Chet nodded toward the woods. “That’s what’s left of the foundation over there. It was the Second Corps Division Hospital before that was moved over to Rock Creek.”

  Elizabeth stepped into the woods a little ways and saw the granite stones that had once been the foundation of the school cum hospital. Surely, Teddy wouldn’t have left his clue in some random foundation stone. That was too much even for him.

  “Are there any other schools that were used as hospitals?”

  “Well, there were dozens of field hospitals. We’ve got markers at 17 Union and 18 Confederate field hospitals right now. There’s High Street or the Common School, the theological seminary and college and the larger Lutheran Seminary, on Seminary Ridge of course.”

  Elizabeth saw Charlotte perk up at that one. She and Elizabeth made eye contact and Charlotte nodded.

  “The Lutheran Seminary,” Elizabeth repeated, and Charlotte nodded again even more excited.

  Simon appeared at Elizabeth’s side and cast a quick glance her way before saying, “Perhaps, we should go there next?”

  “That’s all the way up, or near to it. We should loop down to Little Round Top at the least.”

  Simon put his hand on Chet’s shoulder and maneuvered him back toward the car. “We’ll be sure to go there. I promise, but it’s getting later in the day and my wife…she wants to go the Seminary, so…”

  Chet laughed, one husband to the other, and elbowed Simon’s side lightly. “Right. Happy wife, happy life.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes but was glad to play the part if it got them the next clue.

  As they pulled up in front of the imposing seminary building, Chet started his tour. “General Lee was intent on Harrisburg. Gettysburg wasn’t part of the Confederate plan, nor the Union’s. It was an accidental meeting of great armies. In the early morning of July first, before the battle had even begun, General John Buford, Union, climbed the steps to the cupola and saw the sun glint off Confederate rifles to the west. They were comin’ and the battle was just about to begin.”

  He stopped and turned to point. “To the west and the north fighting was intense and the Union wounded flooded into the seminary. By nightfall it had been taken by the Confederates and enemies slept in beds side by side.”

  They walked up the steps to the portico of the four-story brick building.

  “It was the first field hospital of the battle and hundreds of men died here.” He reached for the front door. “And, although there’s no record of it, there is a rumor that a baby was born here a few days later.”

  Elizabeth nearly tripped over the threshold and Simon would have if he hadn’t already stopped to steady her.

  “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Chet said misreading their reactions. “Seems like the last place a woman would want to have her child,” he said, ushering them forward.

  “But then,” he added, stopping for a moment. “There’s somethin’ reaffirming about it, isn’t there? Life in the middle of all that death.”

  Elizabeth saw Simon take Charlotte’s hand.

  “Even if it isn’t true,” Chet said, on the move again. “I’d like to think it was.”

  It took them the better part of an hour to find the small metal moon and the little canister that held Teddy’s latest clue in the brick wall next to the Parson’s Warming Cupboard above the fireplace, but they did. Thankfully, without damaging anything. As they left the Seminary, Elizabeth felt a wave of relief. Not just that they’d found the next clue, but that they could leave here now.
Despite it being the place where Charlotte had come into the world, there was a palpable memory of the agony so many had endured. Some day she would come back, she knew, and experience it all first-hand.

  ~~~

  The concierge at their hotel gave Jack directions to a pier near the Galata Bridge along with a short series of numbers. It took Jack a few moments to understand that it was the number of their sea taxi and all he had to do was give the slip of paper to the captain.

  Sea taxis weren’t around the last time he’d been to Istanbul. There were a few ferries, but during the war any sort of transportation was dangerous.

  He and Tess decided to walk to the pier. It was under a mile, but it didn’t take long for Tess to lag.

  “It’s these damned cobblestone streets,” she said, nearly turning an ankle again.

  While he appreciated the effort, and the way her heels made her legs look like they went on forever, it had to be painful. It was definitely awkward.

  He held out his arm and she huffed out an indignant breath.

  “Oh, Hell.”

  She used his arm for balance and took off her shoes.

  “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked.

  She frowned at him. “I’ll be fine once we get off this crazy street.”

  He kept his mouth shut and eyes forward, which wasn’t easy. Her dress was as low-cut as her heels were high. How she kept from falling out of the two thin vertical strips of fabric that plunged nearly down to her navel was beyond him. There wasn’t a whole lot to keep in place though, not that he cared. He loved women of all shapes and sizes.

  Tess cleared her throat.

  He looked up, not realizing he’d been looking down. At her…décolletage.

  “Sorry.”

  She hmm’d, unconvinced.

  They walked a few more blocks, finally emerging from the uneven cobblestones.

  “We’re close now,” Jack said, taking a whiff of sea air with that added thickness that came with piers and docks. “Over there.”

  It was just past dusk now, and street lights and torches lit their path along the water’s edge. They walked out onto the pier and, sitting near the end, was a medium-sized covered boat. It almost looked like a very large Italian police car with its blue and white checkered stripe.

  Stenciled on the side was the number Jack had been given. A man stood on deck waiting for them. Jack raised his hand and the man stepped forward to help them aboard.

  They sped along the Bosphorus, crowded with ferries, commercial ships and pleasure cruisers. Lights from clubs and hotels lined the shore. On the left, Europe, and on the right, Asia. And the two of them somewhere in the middle.

  The taxi ride took about twenty minutes. Finally, they rode under the lights of the Bosphorus Bridge that spanned two continents, and veered toward the shore on the left.

  The crew member who’d met them at the dock opened the sliding door and urged them to disembark. As they did, Jack thought they’d either made a mistake or this was some sort of trap. The dock they’d arrived at was industrial, the sort where you’d expect to find an abandoned warehouse and not a premiere club.

  But by the time he turned around to ask the driver, they’d already pushed off from the pier and began to pull away.

  “Hey!” Jack called after them, but it was no use.

  He turned back to Tess. “Well, this should be interesting.”

  He held out his arm again and together they walked up dark steps. Above them Jack could hear the thumping bass from something someone had mislabeled as music.

  Another flight and they were met by two security guards, each the size of a compact car. Maybe mid-size, he thought as one moved and the suit that barely contained his biceps strained under the pressure.

  “Two,” Jack said.

  The guards looked at him behind sunglasses.

  “Deux. Uhm, bir, iki,” Jack said counting aloud to help remember. He held up two fingers. “Iki?”

  The guards were not impressed.

  “Tell Alabaş we are here,” Tess said.

  One of the guards swiveled his bald head on his shoulders. Jack was sure he didn’t actually have a neck. He nodded once toward the other guard who lifted the velvet rope and opened the door for them.

  As soon as he did, the loud thumping music spilled out.

  Jack winked at him as he led Tess inside. They’d barely taken two steps when a giant meaty hand gripped his shoulder. Jack managed not to wince as he turned to look up at the security guard.

  The big man let go of his shoulder and quickly patted Jack down. He’d hated to do it, but he was glad now that he’d left his gun at the hotel. Once he’d finished, the guard looked at Tess. She just smiled back. There was nowhere to hide anything in that dress.

  Then the guard turned back to Jack and held out his hand.

  “Oh, right.”

  Jack handed him eighty lira for the cover and an extra twenty for not breaking his clavicle.

  “Kalıyorsun,” the big man said in a deep voice and held up his hand in the international signal for “don’t move or else.” Jack nodded.

  Just inside he could see large chandeliers and bright TV screens with ads rotating in the background. After a few minutes, the guard returned with a tall thin man in waiter whites. He smiled a smile so oily Jack could smell the olives from three feet away.

  “I am Alabaş,” he said, nodding his thanks to the guard, who returned to his post outside.

  “We were sent here from Meşale. A man there said that you could help us,” Tess said.

  Alabaş made no bones of eyeing Tess appreciatively. “I would love to help you.”

  She didn’t flinch. “We’re here to see the Wizard.”

  Alabaş didn’t take his eyes off her. “Good for you.”

  Tess leaned down to catch his eyes and pry them off her cleavage. “Can you help us or not?”

  The man sighed and then shrugged. “Of course.”

  When he didn’t move, Jack got the hint and dug out more lira. It took another hundred before Alabaş moved. When they’d reached his magic number, he let Jack and Tess into the heart of the club.

  They were led through the restaurant to the outdoor patio where the club proper was. The music was loud, and what Jack had learned was called techno-something. It made his head hurt.

  Alabaş led them past one of the flanking two-story balconies that overlooked the large patio and the Bosphorus beyond. Brightly lit orange and yellow glowing cubes served as coffee tables for long modern L-shaped benches with random red pillows for those who wanted comfort over style. A rectangular bar sat at one end of the patio that was at least 100 square feet. It was early by club standards, and the place had yet to fill. Even so, over a hundred well-dressed people stood around trying to be seen. Mixed in with the locals with more money than sense and the wealthy tourists were what could only be described as chic thugs. Jack smiled as he walked past two men at the bar who were clearly muscle for some mob or another. No matter the decade, there was a dull, violent stench that men like that gave off, one that no amount of cheap cologne could cover.

  Jack led Tess along behind Alabaş. They crossed over a walkway with pulsating light tiles to the far side of the open-air club to a table in the far corner. A large plastic walled partition protected it from the water and wind.

  Alabaş told them to wait and then walked around the far side of the table and leaned down to whisper something. The man he spoke to smiled, his white teeth flashing between the blackness of his beard and mustache.

  He nodded once, sending Alabaş away, and then spread his arms. “You have come to see the Wizard.”

  “We hear he’s a whiz of a Wiz,” Jack said.

  The Wizard laughed politely, briefly. “As you can imagine, I have heard such things before. Always amusing,” he added with a smile that was meant to make people at ease. Jack had learned the ones who made an obvious effort to do so were the ones to watch.

  The three other people at the ta
ble didn’t pay them or their conversation any heed. They ate and drank as if Jack and Tess weren’t there.

  The Wizard took a bite of a large shrimp, chewed quickly, wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and leaned back in his chair. Jack was struck by how much he looked like that beer guy from television—the Most Interesting Man in the World. He didn’t always rip off tourists, but when he did, he did it with style. And, judging from his demeanor, he probably thought so too.

  “What is it I can do for you? Let me guess,” he said, holding up a hand. “An artifact from Atlantis, or do you want Chashma-i-Kausar—Ambrosia,” he smiled again. “Perhaps to spice things up, hmm?”

  He eyed Tess up and down in the same shameless way Alabaş had. It was frustrating that Jack had to let it go but part of the game.

  “Although, I must say, that if you need help to make love to such a beautiful woman, you are beyond my help, my friend.”

  Jack grinned. “Not that.”

  Tess smiled, not showing any discomfort at the conversation. “We’ve come to talk to you about Drasko Skavo.”

  The warmth in his eyes faded, but only briefly. He was a master of control and manipulation. “I am not familiar with this person.”

  “We have it on good authority that he came to see you.”

  “You are mistaken.” There was no hiding the coolness in his voice this time. He drained what was left in his glass and raised his hand as if to signal a waiter. Two large men, who were leaning against the bar, now stood at attention. He smiled warmly again. “I am sorry I can be of no help.”

  He took another bite from a large shrimp. “The food is very good, so your evening is not a total loss.”

  Tess looked ready to argue the point, but Jack slipped an arm around her waist.

  “Sorry to have bothered you. Our mistake.”

  Tess glared at him as he smiled back as sweetly as he could and led her away.

  “He knows Skavo,” she whispered under her breath.

  “Yes, and he’s also not talking. There are two ways to deal with that. One, make them talk,” Jack said, smiling broadly at the two thugs who were making sure they were leaving. “Not recommended.”

 

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