Jump City: Apprentice

by MK Alexander

  “Ha, do you even know how to drive?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what?” I asked. “Just strong-arm your way into the hospital? You probably wouldn’t make it past Greta the receptionist, not to mention Lothar the giant.”

  “I prefer a bit of finesse in these matters.”

  “I say you’ll need me and my extraordinary memory.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “I can tell you if the timeline is intact.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, you might show up and find Sheriff Drummond, Doctor Mears, or Julius Valenti running the quarry… would you even know?”

  “I’m not very good with names,” Fynn admitted.

  “That’s why you need me. Your canary in the timeline— remember?”

  “As you say, Patrick.” Fynn laughed and clasped my shoulder.

  I stopped to think for a moment. “No one will remember us— if that’s the right word.”

  “Yes, we will be strangers again.”

  ***

  We arrived in Sand City on the evening train from Fairhaven rather uneventfully. It was already dark and the sign still read Fair Oaks. Sheriff Durbin was nowhere to be seen. A familiar woman walked past on the platform though. She was dressed in a winter coat to her ankles and it had a fur collar, probably real fur, since I could see ears, eyes and a snout dangling near her shoulder.

  She brushed by me and I called her by name. “Elsie,” I said not meaning to. She stared at me. My heart fluttered and I felt flush. She glanced into my eyes and smiled broadly, then her expression changed to sheer confusion.

  “Patrick?” I thought she said, but it sounded more like “pardon.”

  I stopped her with a gentle hand, but she was taken by surprise, and glanced at me slightly afraid.

  “I’m sorry, I thought I knew you,” I apologized. “I’m a friend of Doctor Valenti’s.”

  “Oh…” She smiled again, that unforgettable sweet smile. “You do look awfully familiar, Mr…”

  “Stevens, Gary Stevens.”

  “I’m sure we’ve met before.”

  “Maybe…” I said hopefully.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for work.” Elsie shook my hand politely and headed down the platform.

  I turned to see Fynn and half expected a disapproving expression but there was none. He was grinning. “She’s very pretty, Patrick,” he whispered and then nodded to the end of the station. “And friendly with Mr Mears.”

  I looked down the wooden walkway to see Elsie standing next to Mears, arguing it seemed. She was a head taller than him and kept jabbing her finger into his lapel. Two men came from the train with a wooden crate and loaded it onto a hand truck. The four of them walked off into the cold night.

  Fynn and I trudged up Commercial Street to the Governor’s Inn where he requested two separate rooms and paid in advance. We met in the lobby sometime later and just after that, Mr Mears came strutting through the front entrance. He looked just the same as always, short and fat, with a slick of red hair and a decidedly odd shaped head.

  There was no glimmer of recognition when he stared at us for a good long while. Clearly he had not met us yet. I saw him slip an old book into his overcoat pocket and come striding over as if he owned the place.

  “Gentlemen?” he asked, as if we were intruders. Fynn was about to speak but I cut him short with a glance.

  “Mr Mears?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “We need your assistance.” I rose and shook his hand.

  “My help?”

  “You’re the county commissioner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please, have a seat,” I offered. “This is Detective… F-Finnegan… from Ottawa, and I’m officer Stevens.”

  “What’s this all about?” he asked in his whiny voice.

  “We’re here to detain Doctor Valenti.”

  “What?” Mears could hardly contain his surprise.

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s a smuggler and a communist sympathizer.”

  “Are you having a joke with me?”

  “No. This is deadly serious.”

  “Do you have some sort of identification, gentlemen?”

  Fynn and I both produced Canadian warrant cards. Mears glanced at them briefly.

  “We’ve been watching Valenti for some time now, and we’re convinced that he’s working with Doctor Gregory Burtan.”

  “Who? Never heard of him.”

  “Doctor Burtan, a cardiologist from New York City, and also an avowed communist.” I paused for a moment. “The Secret Service has evidence that he’s now engaged in counterfeiting.”

  “This is preposterous.”

  “We have it on good authority that a shipment is coming in tonight… from Canada.”

  “What sort of shipment?” Mears stared at me. “Rum-runners? Bootleggers? We’ve already got that Durbin fella behind bars.”

  “No… Counterfeit United States Dollars.”

  “Well,” Mears considered. “We should contact the Sheriff.”

  “We’ve already enlisted Mr Spotts help.”

  “Who? Spotts, from the quarry?”

  “He’s agreed to lend us some of his men to watch the beaches tonight.”

  “Well, I’ll be… tonight, you say?” Mears stared at us both then shouted over to the desk, “Get me Sheriff Drummond on the telephone.” He turned back to Fynn and I. “Sorry for ogling before, didn’t mean to be rude. I guess I consider this as my home and I forget that it’s a hotel… and that, well, there are other guests from time to time.”

  “You might want to notify the director of the hospital about Valenti.”

  “Who? Professor Mallinger? I’m afraid that’s impossible. He’s out of the country.”

  “Well, that’s not good. When will he be back?”

  “Not till the end of the summer.”

  ***

  Fynn and I did not care to wait for Drummond’s arrival, nor any deputies he might have with him. We remained in the lobby and kept a close eye on Mears who was now talking on the telephone at the front desk.

  “I must say, Patrick… a job well done.”

  “What?”

  “With Mr Mears. We now know everything we need to know.”

  “For what?”

  “To leave.”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes, now… Let’s stroll up to the beach.”

  “We can’t leave. We just got here.”

  “We may have already overstayed our welcome.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m quite sure the new sheriff will soon be on our trail. The workers from the quarry will likely follow, and I dare say your Doctor Valenti will have quite a bit of explaining to do.”

  As soon as Mears was out of sight and otherwise occupied, Fynn and I made a hasty exit out the kitchen door. It reminded me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “Where are we going?” I asked once back on the street.

  “In what sense, Patrick?”

  “In every sense.”

  “Our best destination is early September, or the last week of August. A short time after we departed for the library, but before we met with Murray.”

  “Murray… I forgot to ask about him.”

  “I doubt Mr Mears would know anything useful. Let’s hurry, please.”

  “How are we going to be so exact?”

  “It’s a good night to travel,” Fynn said with a smile. “The sky is very clear and I can see many stars.” He pointed to the eastern horizon. “That is our destination. The north beach will suit us nicely.”

  It was a long cold walk to the Atlantic side. Fynn consulted his astrolabe under the single streetlight we came across and diligently turned the dials. Later, along the dunes, I noticed something in my pocket. It was the watch, the gift
from Edmund. I immediately showed it to Fynn.

  “Well, indeed…” He examined it the best he could in the dim light. One of the lines began to glow green… “It agrees with my own calculations,” Fynn said and laughed. “Hang on to this if you can. It might come in handy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Should we get separated.”

  “Why would that happen?”

  “We are both jumping to the future again, though I cannot be absolutely sure where I might end up.”

  “Ottawa, you mean?”

  “I don’t exactly recall when my concurrency ends… or resumes.” Fynn surveyed the beach. It was very dark but otherwise calm. “No life guard chairs,” he said with some disappointment.

  “No ghosts either.”

  Fynn laughed. “Perhaps that bodes well for us.” He pointed. “There, the high dunes start to rise… a place for us to jump… that sandy cliff.”

  ***

  It was the usual searing pain. The usual oblivion, but I tasted nothing this time. Night turned to day. I splashed down in water again, although it did not feel like a deja vu. I desperately wanted to hear another splash. I wanted to hear Fynn land just beside me. That was not to be. Instead, I heard a forlorn clanging; a bell was randomly sounding and not so distant. Behind me I saw its source: a buoy. In front of me I saw a very distant shoreline, and though hazy, it looked to be Boxtop Beach. This would be a hard swim. I paddled to the buoy instead and grabbed on. I needed to rest at least for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I could even make it that far. I was happy for one thing, Serenity Bay was living up to its name today, whatever today was.

  I lay on the shore soaking wet, sandy and shivering for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, I lifted my head when I heard a noise, a rhythmic sputtering, a clanking. In the distance I saw a jalopy creeping along the beach, and towards me, I hoped. I could hear the crunching of pebbles against tires and looked up again. The old car stopped and Sheriff Durbin stepped out. He raced over and stood over me. He tipped his hat back, astonished.

  “Jeepers, what the hell are you doing here, Patrick? Are you alright?”

  “You know me?” I asked but could barely speak it seemed.

  “Of course I do,” Durbin said and smiled, helping me to my feet. “Just not sure what to call you… Mr Jardel or Officer Stevens.”

  “Patrick is best.” I laughed.

  “What happened?”

  “Shipwreck,” I lied without hesitation.

  “It was a helluva storm. Can’t say I’m surprised. No one should’ve been out on the water last night.”

  “Where’s Fynn?” I asked.

  “Fynn? He was with you?” Durbin gave me an anxious look. “Listen, I’ll get some guys to comb the beach. We’ll find him, don’t you worry… First though, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “No, not there… I’m fine, really…”

  “You don’t look fine,” he replied and guided me towards his car. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

  “What?” I looked down to notice I was still wearing Ming’s embroidered silk coat. It was soaking wet. “Oh, thanks.”

  Durbin wrapped me in a blanket since I was still shivering head to toe, desperately cold. He drove me to Fourth Street and to the Lovely’s rooming house. Oh good, free wireless, was the odd thought that crossed my mind as he helped me upstairs. I searched through my pockets and found plenty of local currency, though it was still damp. Durbin gave me a questioning glance.

  “For Mr Lovely, to pay for the room,” I explained.

  “Swell, thanks,” he muttered and examined the bills. “Good, these look about right— wait a second… This Jackson is not…” He held the bill up to the window for light. “Counterfeit, I’d say.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “There’s a lot of it going around these days.” He gave me a grin. “Not your fault.” Durbin paused for a moment. “Hey, that reminds me… some guy name Grimaldi is looking for you.”

  “Me?”

  “He keeps calling the station. Something about a car… Know anything about it?”

  “Not really.”

  I heard frantic footsteps. Elsie ran up the stairs oblivious to everything and jumped into my arms. “Oh, Patrick, thank god, you’re back.”

  I was unsteady on my feet and fell into the small bed with her, laughing. She stared into my face with a huge smile on hers that wouldn’t fade. Durbin made a discreet exit.

  ***

  I slept like a dead man and without a single dream. The next morning, I woke to find myself in bed again, propped up by several pillows, and with Elsie nearby, smiling and fawning over me. It was not a deja vu.

  “What day is it?”

  “Not this again,” Elsie teased.

  “Seriously.”

  “September fifth, Tuesday.”

  “Oh.”

  “Does that mean something to you, Patrick?”

  “Not exactly…”

  Durbin came in some minutes later. He was wearing his characteristic smile. “Good news… We found Inspector Fynn.”

  “Where?”

  “Ottawa. He just sent a cable to my office. Should be here in a couple of days.”

  “I wonder what happened?”

  “Wasn’t aboard that boat, I guess.” Durbin handed me the telegram:

  Wet behind the ears no longer. Arriving Thursday, evening train. Please gather allies if possible.

  “I have to talk to Doc Valenti.”

  “About what?”

  “All the bad stuff going on at the hospital.”

  “No,” Durbin said flatly.

  “Listen, this Mallinger guy is dangerous. We have to do something.”

  Elsie gave me a troubled glance, but gave the sheriff a slight nod.

  “Please… I just want to talk to Valenti.”

  Durbin considered, “Well, he usually has lunch at the Cozy Corner on Tuesdays. I suppose we might just happen to bump into him…”

  “Cozy Corner?”

  “George’s Luncheonette.”

  “Oh yeah, what about Carter?” I asked.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he a dad yet?”

  Durbin grinned. “Yeah, proud father of a baby girl— born last week. Eleanor, I think they’re naming her.”

  “That’s good to hear… And Percy, Higgins?”

  “You’ve only been gone a couple of weeks, Patrick.”

  “Feels longer.”

  “Well, I still remember you saying some crazy stuff up at Valmont Park the other night…” he glanced at me, then laughed. “Though that might’ve been the Johnnie talking.”

  “What stuff?”

  “I don’t know, something about Smedley Butler taking over the government in a fascist coup. Or was it MacArthur?”

  “I said that?”

  “Don’t you worry yourself. Mr Roosevelt is doing a fine job these days.” Durbin smiled then started to search his pockets. “That reminds me…” He pulled out a dime. “Where the heck did you get this?”

  It was the coin I had given him just before leaving, with FDR’s portrait on it.

  “Um, a campaign novelty item. Do you like it?”

  I heard a telephone ring downstairs. Mr Lovely called up for Elsie. She returned a short time later with an anxious expression.

  “What is it?”

  “Daisy just called with news… Professor Mallinger returned this morning. He’s on his way back to the hospital.”

  ***

  We found Doctor Valenti just as Durbin said and slid into his booth without a word. He glanced up from his newspaper, only somewhat surprised. “Gentlemen?” He looked me over. “Ah, Mr Jardel… back from New York, I see. Here for my little soiree, yes?”

  “Oh… the party. I didn’t get a chance to buy a tux yet. Might be sending regrets.”

  “That would be a shame… why even Sheriff Durbin is attending.” Valenti smiled.

  I put my fake police credentials down on the table and
he read them carefully. “What’s this all about?”

  “I need your help, Doctor.”

  “How can I be of assistance?”

  “I’d like you to get me into the hospital as an orderly.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “And what does all this have to do with Canada?” He put his paper down and looked at me. “Not counterfeiting?”

  “No, Professor Mallinger.”

  “What about him? He’s due back today in fact.”

  “I missed him the first time— remember?”

  Valenti paused a moment. “Say, are you implying you arrived by design?” he scoffed.

  I raised an eyebrow in reply.

  “I hardly think so. You had a nasty gash on your head, a concussion— you couldn’t even remember who the president was, let alone the day.”

  “I admit I went a little overboard. I didn’t know who I could trust.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “I have reason to believe Professor Mallinger is not who he says he is, and that he’s been harming people… patients.”

  “I don’t always approve of his methods, though surely he is doing no one injury. He has impeccable credentials.”

  “Does he?”

  “Mr Mears, on the hospital board has vouched for the man.”

  “Isn’t that convenient.”

  “I’m not sure I understand your sarcasm.”

  “How long have you known Mr Mears?”

  “Well over a year…”

  “And before that?”

  Valenti paused to think. “Well, when he invited me to join the staff…”

  I gave him a doubtful look. “Tell me, what exactly does Professor Mallinger do down in the basement.”

  “What do you mean? The hydro-therapy room?”

  “Yeah, there’s that… the prison cells, and all the screaming at night.”

  “They are hardly cells, they’re secure rooms for the benefit of those poor devils who are so afflicted.”

  “Afflicted with what?”

  “Various mental disorders.”

  “And what happens to them? Do they ever get discharged?”

  “What do you say to all this, Sheriff?” Valenti turned for help.