by MK Alexander
“I doubt it somehow.”
“And why is that?”
“Who’s to say the galaxy itself is level with anything? Or that our solar system is level to the galactic plane?”
Mortimer laughed. “As you say, Mr Jardel… I may have misspoke. I didn’t realize you understood so much about astronomy. Suffice to say, I’ve compensated for the earth’s axial tilt, and this I’ve found, makes for predictable travel.”
“Is that what goes on here?”
“Sink or swim,” Mortimer said and laughed. “Or as Lothar likes to put it: Big splash or no splash.”
“What happens to all the people who jump here?”
“Quite simply, I make careful notes of where they go, and later on, I follow them to confirm the settings on the cane.”
“That’s it?”
“Sorry to disappoint you. This is merely a calibration site. Everything you see here is simply to adjust the cane. Rather elaborate, I’ll admit.” Mortimer held up the jackal head as if it were a prize.
“But no one returns, you’re saying.”
“Not so far…” He cast a lifeless eye on me.
“What about this cane?”
“Mr Fickster has been helping me…” Mortimer turned and called out, “Edmund?” The double doors swung opened and he stepped in, looking a bit cowed. “It seems Mr Jardel is very curious about the cane. I can only tell him it operates with five buttons: year, month, day, hour, and minute. Astonishingly accurate.” Mortimer smiled. “Some sort of mechanism which I don’t fully understand, nor do I care to. Something to do with gallium, isn’t it Edmund?”
“That’s right… The inner module is layered with slivers of metal, wafers of rare-earth elements… oh, gallium, holmium, thulium, ytterbium, and so on… In crystal form, each vibrates at a specific frequency depending on its position relative to direction and momentum—”
“Thank you, that’s quite enough,” Mortimer cut him off.
I looked over and couldn’t help but wonder why Edmund had a huge grin on his face. Mortimer adjusted a few dials on the primitive machine. “Magnetic north won’t do at all, it wanders about too much. One must find actual north, or celestial north… It’s this switch, I think. Mortimer pulled down a giant lever and the dome above us began to rotate slowly. “The temple and the quarry gave me the idea for building this planetarium, as we call it,” Mortimer shouted above the din of giant turning gears.
After a few moments everything fell silent again. On the dome itself a single light glowed bright blue, almost like a spotlight. It was the end of Hydra’s tail and just skirted the edge of the horizon. It also shined down on the tiles which I could now see were subtly marked, probably in degrees. I watched the blue light trace a very slow path along the edge of the pool.
The porthole doors opened again and people started filing in: Mears, Murray, the brigadier, Drummond and his twins, Inspector Fynn and Elsie. I was horrified. Lothar corralled everyone to the far wall.
“So glad you can all join us,” Mortimer said grandly. “This afternoon we travel to the future….”
At that, Drummond’s face twisted into an indescribable expression.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Mr Drummond. I’m sure you suspected this would happen.” Mortimer laughed. “Well, time is rather short. We have only eleven minutes before my little blue light reaches the end of its course. First to Mr Mears, who has an errand to run for me.”
Mortimer took out a large hypodermic needle and injected Mears in the shoulder. The poor man collapsed into Lothar’s waiting arms.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“Specific instructions and adequate funds to complete his mission.” Mortimer was concentrating on the blue spot traveling along the edge of the pool. Just as it reached Mears, he signaled to Lothar, who tossed him into the pool, bag and all. There was no splash. He simply vanished. I saw Mortimer making notes on a clipboard. “Nineteen ninety-seven, June the second,” he announced, seemingly for my benefit.
Mortimer turned again to his captive audience. “Who should be next? Ah yes, Murray… you will be traveling to the year twenty sixty-one, a rather bleak time when people have completely given up their liberty for the sake of security.” Mortimer nodded at Lothar who picked Murray up by the shoulders and set him at the edge of the pool. After another injection and a well timed toss, Murray vanished as well. Mortimer made note on his clipboard again.
“I’d like to send the Brigadier to the past, though the stars are not in my favor today… what was the date? The twenty-fifth of October eighteen fifty-four.”
I saw a bit of fear flash on Brigadier Thomas’ face. “Do your worst, you bastard,” he seethed.
“Or perhaps Nurse Everest would like to be next? Where should we send you, my dear, eh? Shall I be a gentleman, and give you company? Which of these men will care for you? Patrick, Fynn, the Brigadier…”
It all unraveled at this very moment. I saw a dark look cross Lothar’s face, and Drummond rushed towards Mortimer, ready for a fight it seemed. He had the look of a man who had been cheated out of everything he held dear.
“I’m sorry, Mr Drummond, I cannot have you blabbing everything you know to your kin. Nothing can appear in your journals, certainly. That would be disastrous,” Mortimer explained with some patience while he unsheathed the sword from his cane. With a quick motion, he strategically lanced Drummond through the spleen, then quickly turned to his giant before Ray and Roy had a chance to react. “Lothar,” he said and nodded. The goliath picked both men up and smashed them together like rag dolls. He threw them into the pool. They did not disappear. Rather, they fell with a splash and floated face down in the water.
I ran to Drummond crumpled on the tiles, bleeding out. He had dying words: “Aaron Alderman, Brian Bogden, Calvin Curtis…”
I recognized the double initials at least. “Herbert Hoover?” I asked.
“No,” he said and smiled despite himself. Drummond gave a final chuckle.
At that moment, Sheriff Durbin burst through the porthole doors with a sawed-off shot gun. “What the hell is going on?” he shouted.
“Ah Sheriff, just in the nick of time,” someone said, probably Fynn. But Lothar came lumbering up the ramp and grabbed Elsie before anyone could stop him.
“Lothar, please, no,” I pleaded and watched his eyes. They darted between me, Elsie, and the blue light that moved slowly along the edge. “Elsie is our friend,” I said as calmly as I could.
The giant stared at me and reluctantly slipped Elsie into the pool. There was a small splash, a comforting splash. Then he chased the blue light and jumped himself. Lothar’s leap was silent. I hoisted Elsie from the water into my arms and held her panting on the tiles. She was fine.
Things did not quite work out the way Mortimer had supposed. He was now backing up the ramp, ever higher. The brigadier and Fynn were slowly moving towards him, gradually cornering him at the top of the slope. I looked over at Edmund who still had a huge grin on his face. He pulled a lever. The gears started again, and the slope began to settle towards level. Mortimer was completely calm though. I saw him fiddling with his cane. The jackal eyes finally glowed green. He smiled, jumped and disappeared, still from a great height. Then I heard Edmund laughing. Fynn joined in as well.
“What’s so funny? Mortimer just escaped… again.”
“Not at all, Patrick,” Fynn said and turned. “Edmund?”
He faced us with his huge smile and was holding another cane. This one was Percy’s, with a bear claw.
“Where did he go then?”
“Who can say exactly? Far to the future no doubt… though not where he thinks the cane will lead him. It doesn’t function at all.”
“You switched them?”
“Indeed.” Fynn walked over to Durbin. “What brings you here, Sheriff?”
“Daisy called me. She’s worried about her sister.”
“Not the old man?” Fynn asked.
“You mean Doc Va
lenti? No, I never trusted the guy.” He looked around the room. “Say… I didn’t just see two people jump into thin air, did I?” Durbin asked.
“Nonsense, Sheriff. It’s just a trick of the light, the play of shadows.”
***
“I think I’ll stay for a while, if it’s all the same to you… Build some concurrency maybe.” I put my arm around Elsie.
“As you say, Patrick,” Fynn said with a smile.
“You have some explaining to do,” she said to me, looking up with an indescribable expression.
Fynn led me aside. “Thomas and I have a fire to fix.”
“What will you do?” I asked.
“We’ll go back to see who shows up,” the brigadier said, “And when, or, if he does, I’ll send him packing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll march him down to the stacks personally.”
* * *
final interlude
If I asked, “where are you?” it’s a pretty safe bet you’d have a good answer. Not so much for me. I am definitely someplace. I’m just not sure exactly where. Sitting in a dark room, there is light from somewhere but it barely illuminates anything significant. There’s a table nearby. I can see two glasses, both of them empty. I seem to think there’s a window as well, and an open one, I’d guess, since I can feel a cool breeze across my face. I can also hear a soft rumbling in the distance, probably the surf pounding a nearby shoreline, or the sound of thunder… I’ve been here before— that’s for sure. I turned to see Inspector Fynn sitting next to me. He smiled.
“Well, another crime solved, eh Patrick?”
“I think Durbin might have a hard time believing it.”
“Believe what, Patrick?” Chief Durbin asked with a grin as he walked into Fynn’s living room carrying two flat boxes.
“Ah Sheriff… I mean to say, Chief Durbin— there you are. I’m glad you could join us.” Fynn rose. “And thank you for bringing dinner. Patrick has a craving for such a meal.”
The scent of fresh pizza and hot cardboard soothed me to my very soul. I grabbed a slice without hesitation.
“Any news?” Fynn asked.
“It’s pretty much a wrap… just following up on the alibi.”
“If you check his claim that he was overseas at the time, I believe you will find that he has been lying.”
“Lying about what?” I asked.
“His whereabouts of course,” Fynn replied. “I’ll admit I was very wrong about the motive in this case. I was too focused on the family… I thought the perpetrator intended to kill the Dumonts, but this was not the idea at all.”
“What was it then?”
“To instigate an emergency in order to clear the house…” Fynn said. “It was Mr Mears who meant to empty the place so he could break in and steal the book. Though he was only somewhat successful.”
“He stole it?”
“Yes and no.” Fynn laughed. “He stole the Dumont’s trash can.”
“Wait. Mrs Dumont just threw away a priceless manuscript?”
“Perhaps it was just a musty old book to her.” Fynn paused to smile. “Of course, Mr Mears could not take this chance…”
“The Dumont’s trash can was found in his backyard. An innocent mistake, so he claims,” Durbin said. “Thing is, one of the neighbors saw Mears stealing that trash can.”
“Which neighbor?”
“I forget her name… the one with all the barking dogs.” Durbin reached for a slice of pizza. “It was enough for a warrant… And once the forensics came back, we made an arrest.”
“Really, Sheriff?”
Durbin gave me a look. “We’ve definitely got him on breaking and entering, larceny… and we can build a pretty good case for attempted murder.”
“How?”
“His fingerprints are everywhere… on the hose used to flood the tree… on the fireplace flue, inside the refrigerator, in the Dumont’s bathroom, and on the stolen book.”
“And the particular kind of acid that killed the tree?”
“Forensics matched it to a container in his basement,” Durbin went on. “We also found a receipt for the purchase of one dwarf persimmon tree… and a bottle of deer repellant. Not to mention quantities of strychnine for the candles. Funny, also found a bag full of sweet gum burs, those spiky balls, and another full of acorns.”
“And the book?” Fynn asked.
“Right there where you said it would be: on his shelf.”
“I’ve done a bit of research on this. It seems that at least one of these books is referred to as the Voynich Manuscript. It’s written in a language no one has been able to decipher, and some say it is a complete hoax.”
“A hoax?”
“A modern day forgery… nonetheless, as of now, it is considered priceless.”
“That’s motive enough for me,” Durbin said.
“There is one volume at the Yale University library, one in Mrs Dumont’s possession, and one… still at large.”
“At large, you say?” Durbin asked.
“Yes, though I’d very much like to examine any of these manuscripts…”
“I’m sure you would, Fynn, but it’s evidence for now.”
“As you say, Sheriff.”
“What the hell— why do you two guys keep calling me sheriff?”
Fynn and I looked at each other and laughed slightly.
“Well,” Durbin began with a grin of his own, “I have something for you…” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a large parcel.
“What is it?” Fynn asked with some anticipation.
“It’s been sitting in the attic for years… belonged to my great grandmother, Daisy.”
“Grandma Daisy?” I asked. “Daisy Everest?”
“How did you know that?” Durbin turned to me.
“Um… I helped with the research.”
“Go on, unwrap it.”
Fynn eagerly ripped open the package to find a book, a very old book.”
“I’m speechless, Richard. This is an unparalleled artifact.”
“My compliments.”
“I couldn’t possibly accept this.”
“Maybe not, but feel free to read it and give it back when you’re done.”
Fynn showed me the book. “It’s the third volume of the Voynich manuscript.”
“What’s it say?”
Fynn examined the title page. “I have no idea.”
***
“Patrick, you’ve been agonizing over this for a long time… I understand your feelings but it has all come to naught.”
“Still, I have to keep trying.”
“I fear you are jeopardizing your own well-being.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps you don’t recall, but you’ve already sacrificed many lifetimes trying to fix this.”
“Well, I don’t really remember, no.”
“Jumping back from Seattle, all those untold times?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Fynn let off a heavy sigh. “Alright then, what is your plan this time?”
“Okay, well, I found a gap in my concurrency… March, nineteen seventy-four… I go back, steal the old pick up truck, put a brick on the accelerator, and drive it out onto the frozen reservoir.”
“What will this accomplish? It can only lead to disaster.”
“If everybody sees it there, that should be enough to thwart Drummond.”
“Or inspire him.”
“What?”
“Perhaps this is how he got the very idea to sink the cars at Barker Meadow.” Fynn turned to me. “You are not saying you’ve already tried this?”
“I may have.”
“Oh Patrick,” Fynn said a bit admonishingly.
Obviously it would take some more hard thinking to save Andy and Cindy. According to Fynn, I had tried several times already and none of them had amounted to much. For once I was glad not to remember this. His advice seemed sound however. I had to t
hink it through more thoroughly before taking any more action.
Soft jumps were not the solution either. I had already tried going back to steal Andy’s car keys… Once, I disconnected the NedCam, and once I had gone so far as to kidnap Cindy’s dog, Axel. None of these plans had worked out very well.
“Perhaps they are fine after all,” Fynn said encouragingly. “I noticed your stout friend was very close to the shoreline before we jumped off that car.”
“So did I, but he was up to his chest in freezing water, trying to rescue Cindy.”
“As you say…” Fynn said quietly. “There is only one way to save your friends.”
“How?”
“All your plans have so far centered on traveling to the past to help, yet such is nearly impossible.”
“Why?”
“Patrick, surely you know, the past changes the present.”
“Yeah… and?”
“Your concurrency ends the night we leapt from that sinking car. If you travel back before this, everything could be undone, so to speak.”
“I thought about going back just a little afterwards, just to make sure they’re okay.”
“Inadvisable. We disappeared that night. How would you explain your presence… if say, Jamal Morris were to see you in the Catacombs?”
“The Catacombs?”
“The hotel bar.”
“Oh…”
“In this case we need to change the future. If we stop Mr Drummond, your friends will be saved, and the only way to do that is to find him at the source…”
“Wait, you’re saying changing the future will change the past?”
“In this case, yes.”
“How do we do that?”
“Tomorrow is a good day to travel.”
***
The next morning, I heard the rattling iron of my spiral staircase and Inspector Fynn was at my door tapping on the glass softly. I wasn’t expecting him, though I’d learned not to. He had his usual bright look. I slid back the door.
“Patrick… Good morning.”
I nodded and added a smile, then gave him a once over. Today he was dressed in brand new overalls, the kind a mechanic would wear. He also had a yellow hardhat and seemed to be carrying a heavy toolbox. “Going somewhere?” I asked as casually as I could.