The Timepiece and the Girl Who Went Astray: A thrilling new time travel adventure

by O. R. Simmonds

  ‘Are we any closer to figuring out a way to get to Abigayle safely? I get that we can go get her seconds after I left if we want to, but I can’t sit around doing nothing. I feel guilty just for having slept!’

  ‘You’ll be no good to anybody if you’re exhausted. You’ll need your wits about you for what’s to come,’ Avy said ominously.

  Will nodded, then sipped his tea.

  ‘The good news,’ Avy said, ‘is that this morning I was able to have a detailed look at the Timepiece. I’m happy to report that it’s now fully functioning and safe to use. No more overheating. Obviously, you must still abide by the three laws and remain aware that the Timekeepers are likely still tracking your location.’

  ‘Three laws?’ Will asked.

  ‘Does that confused look imply that Frenz didn’t care to explain this to you?’

  Frenz half turned his head from the television and said, ‘Not explicitly, no, but I explained the basics.’

  Avy sighed and said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, these rules are the basics and if he’s going to be responsible for holding time itself in his hands, then it’s best he knows them. Take another sip and listen up, ready?’

  Will swallowed a mouthful and said, ‘Okay, shoot.’

  ‘First, never activate the Timepiece while at great height – tall buildings, bridges, aeroplanes and so on. There’s no guarantee those things will be there in the time you’re travelling to. Second, never activate the Timepiece while travelling at speed. And third, never use the Timepiece to visit the future. There, easy, no?’

  Will locked eyes with Frenz when Avy spoke that last point. Avy looked at both of them quizzically and said, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Rescuing Abigayle may require that we break one of the three laws,’ Frenz said.

  ‘Is that right?’ Avy said.

  ‘Frenz and I already talked about the risks of going to the future – it’s dangerous, uncertain, ever-changing, yadda, yadda, yadda – but I was holding Abigayle’s hand when she activated the Timepiece. So, if I’ve understood everything correctly, we both went to a version of the future where we had both been missing for the intervening years, right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s technically correct, but there’s something else,’ Avy said with a furrowed brow.

  ‘Avy, what is it?’ Frenz asked.

  ‘After the Timepiece was stolen and you disappeared, a huge operation was set in motion to recover both. Resources were pulled from outside the agency: police, military and intelligence services – all with fabricated briefs, of course – and it was strongly suspected that you’d taken the Timepiece but there was no proof and no one knew how you could’ve pulled it off.’

  ‘That was the whole idea,’ Frenz said.

  ‘Yes, but somehow Cillian Gander knew that the Timepiece was missing before anyone else. I remember everyone being rounded up at the end of Nestor’s funeral service and hauled back to Central Station. Cillian stormed into the main atrium and barked orders at everyone in the room, even staff from other divisions. He told everyone that the Timepiece had just been used to travel to a specific date in 1940. At the time, we didn’t even know the Timepiece was missing and no one had even looked at Ben’s logs. And yet Cillian already knew for certain that it had been used and even to which date.’

  ‘Who is Ben?’ Will asked.

  ‘Ben monitors the usage of the Timepiece and logs details of every assignment undertaken. It’s supposed to prevent unauthorised usage. Not that that ever stopped Cillian and the Futures Project.’

  ‘How did Cillian know all of this so quickly?’ Frenz said.

  ‘The malfunctioning Mimic Watch. When I was speaking to him in his office, he had it on his desk. Then I left to go to the funeral service, and shortly after that you must have made your transit to the past. I think Cillian was holding that Mimic Watch and travelled with you.’

  ‘Okay,’ Will said, ‘so he knew where Frenz travelled to, but he never found him. The escape worked. Why is this a problem for us now?’

  ‘Had either of you been there, you would’ve seen what losing the Timepiece did to Cillian. If you thought he was bad before…’ Avy shook her head, exhaling. ‘The agency spent eight years looking for you, Frenz. Eight years without the Timepiece. In that time, they called in all the favours they could, but the coffers still ran dry. Without the Timepiece, the agency no longer had any power, any means to make money or any reason to exist at all. And that’s exactly what happened.’

  Avy paused to take a sip from her tea before continuing. ‘For Cillian Gander, it was never over. He became even more unhinged than before and wouldn’t or perhaps couldn’t let it go. Ironic really, the way that man thinks – he’s stuck in the past but obsessed with the future. He was so sure that you would be tempted to use the Timepiece again, that you wouldn’t be able to resist the power it could give you. He was so sure, in fact, that for almost twenty years he has worn and maintained – but never repaired – that Mimic Watch. The malfunctioning watch that started all of this. He was so desperate to be close to that power that he wore the Mimic Watch so that the moment you used the Timepiece, he would know.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ Will said. ‘What about the three laws? What if Frenz used it while he was on a train or something?’

  ‘You really don’t know the kind of man you’re up against, William. I still have some old agency friends in London, and from what they tell me Cillian Gander has rarely left his house in the past decade. And when he has, it’s always been on foot. He’s never been in a car, not ridden a bike. I’ve even had reports that he spends all of his time on the ground floor of his home just in case the Timepiece is used to visit a time period when the upper floors hadn’t yet been constructed.’

  ‘So, this guy never leaves his house. How is he any threat to us now?’ Will said.

  Frenz pushed himself away from the counter and moved towards Will. ‘Don’t you see what Avy is saying?’

  ‘That this guy is a fucking nut-job?’

  ‘No – well, yes –but more specifically that if he was wearing that Mimic Watch all day, every day –’

  ‘Then he was probably wearing it when Abigayle and I visited the future!’

  ‘Yes, exactly. Which means that the version of the future that you and Abigayle visited was one where all three of you had been missing for the intervening years.’

  ‘Hang on, are you saying that to get Abigayle back, all three of us need to travel to the future? Together?’

  ‘If what Avy says is true, then yes, I’m afraid so.’

  ‘How can we be sure he came along with us?’

  ‘It’ll be recorded in the time logs,’ Frenz said. ‘We’ll need access to them.’

  ‘And how do we do that?’

  ‘You’ll need to pay Ben a visit,’ Avy said.

  ‘Do you know if Ben is still active?’ Frenz asked.

  Avy nodded. ‘I believe so, yes. Ben would’ve been too important an asset for Cillian to let drop out of service. Besides, if the Timekeepers are still tracking the Timepiece, then they’ll be using Ben to do it.’

  Will suddenly stood from his chair, which toppled over backwards, and said, ‘Okay then, that’s it! That’s how we find Abigayle! We track down Ben and get the record of when Abigayle travelled, right?’

  Frenz turned to Will and shrugged. ‘Of course, that’s the easy part. The hard part is getting to the information. To do that we’ll need to get into Central Station, that’s where the logs will be stored. Avy, do you know how we might get in? I take it the trains no longer operate?’

  ‘Trains?’ Will asked.

  ‘The Central Station complex is entirely underground,’ Frenz said. ‘There used to be a secret train route. The agency acquired the King William Street underground station in the early 1900s to transport agency staff. They ran special services out of Kings Cross.’

  ‘I’m afraid there are no trains,’ Avy said. ‘Not since the early 1970s. Cillian had them sealed.’

 
; ‘Damn. What about the evacuation tunnels?’

  ‘There’s your other problem. Cillian collapsed two of the tunnels after the agency shut down. The only one left is the one that runs from the house of the head of the Operations Section.’

  Will bent down and retrieved his toppled chair. He righted it, sat down and slowly placed his hands on the table. ‘Avy, humour me for a sec. You’re telling us that the only way to find Abigayle is to get access to the operations log.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Which is likely to be inside the old Office of Time Dissemination building?’

  ‘Also correct.’

  ‘And that the only way in is through the house of a crazy old guy – who has already tried to kill us at least once – and who never, ever leaves his house?’

  ‘That is exactly what I’m saying, yes.’

  Will’s eyes widened, and his jaw became slack, dropping open. Frenz and Avy exchanged confused glances with each other before turning back to Will, who was staring seemingly at nothing at all.

  ‘Will, are you okay?’ Frenz said. ‘Getting in there won’t be easy, but I’m sure we can do it.’

  Will blinked, appearing to snap back into the room, ‘Huh? No, it’s not that.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  Will slowly raised his hand and pointed towards the television set on the countertop. ‘There, look. I’m on TV again.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  May 17th, 1984, 07:02

  Will’s photograph was now displayed, full-frame, across the television screen. In the headshot, he looked tired, pale and unshaven.

  Why was it that a photo of an unsmiling person immediately made them look guilty of something?

  It took a moment for it to register that he, and the thousands of other people watching, was looking at his passport photo. His passport had been in the top draw of a small side table beside the front door of Abigayle’s apartment. The police had gained access to the apartment, searched it, found the passport and distributed it to the media.

  If they had access to the apartment, then they would have found the red-stained floorboards and the carpet that had been cut to ribbons. They would have found the apartment in a state of disarray, with tattered and torn curtains and upturned tables. They would have also found no sign of Abigayle whatsoever. They would find her suitcase under the bed and all of her clothes and toiletries in the wardrobe and bathroom, untouched. It would be clear that she hadn’t left town on a business trip or gone to live with her parents after a nasty row. The scene in the living room, Will’s presence at a separate murder scene and the past he was so desperately hoping wouldn’t catch up with him painted an unattractive picture of William Gordon Wells of Le Claire, Iowa. They used his middle name in the report as they always seemed to do for murderers and serial killers.

  Will’s passport photo suddenly reduced in size and moved to the top-left corner of the screen, revealing the newsreader. A headline appeared below his picture:

  ‘DOUBLE MURDER SUSPECT ON THE RUN IN IRELAND’

  The newsreader composed herself, said good morning to her viewers – as if finding out a madman on the loose was the ideal news to begin the day – then smiled politely and proceeded to report on the headline story. ‘This morning, a police manhunt continues for a man suspected of at least one murder.’ She spoke with a soft, rhythmic Irish lilt. ‘William Gordon Wells, an American tourist living in London, was arrested at the scene of a murder in North London on Monday evening. The victim is yet to be formally identified. Wells was remanded in custody but escaped from his cell hours later. The circumstances of the escape are under investigation.’

  Will recoiled back in his chair, exhaling through pursed lips. The report seemed so thorough and convincing that he even began to question his memories of what had happened. His eyes darted ashamedly between Frenz and Avy, who were both riveted to the TV.

  The report continued. ‘Shortly after his escape, police began a search at the apartment of Abigayle Ward, where Mr. Wells had been staying.’ Mercifully, Will’s picture disappeared from sight, replaced with a low-angle photograph of the front of Abigayle’s apartment. The newsreader continued, ‘Ms. Ward has been declared a missing person. The police are urging anyone with any information regarding Mr. Wells’s whereabouts to come forward. Let’s join our reporter at the scene.’

  The picture cut to a live feed of the exterior of Abigayle’s apartment. Police cars lined the street and a police tape cordon had been set up around the building’s entrance. There was something eerie and surreal about seeing a place that felt so familiar to Will plastered across the television screen. He knew the place well, but in this context it felt as if he was seeing it all for the first time. Will spoke out loud, to no one in particular: ‘I just got the weirdest feeling of jamais vu.’ His face was emotionless as he spoke, his eyes unblinking.

  Frenz gave Will a sideways look. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Jamais vu. It’s the opposite of déjà vu. I’m not entirely sure why I know that.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’ve lived in that apartment for the past year, but it looks completely unrecognisable to me now. I can’t believe this is happening.’

  The weight of Abigayle’s absence seemed almost too much for Will to carry as the reality of the situation flashed across the television screen.

  The reporter introduced an eyewitness. As the camera pulled backwards, a short man in a white suit, black shirt and pink tie stepped into frame, joining the reporter. It was Abigayle’s neighbour, Kevin.

  The reporter said, ‘I’m joined now by Kevin Wormwood, the neighbour of the missing woman Abigayle Ward and fugitive William Gordon Wells. First, can you tell us a bit about your relationship with Abigayle Ward and her fiancé, Mr. Wells?’

  Kevin smirked, impressed with his newfound stardom and the attention he was getting. He adjusted his tie, tilted his head side to side to loosen his neck and said, ‘Certainly, John. I’ve been Abigayle’s neighbour for almost thirty-four months now and in that time I’ve done what I can to look out for her. When I first met Mr. Wells, it set off alarm bells for me immediately. There was something in his eyes and the way he moved that didn’t sit right with me.’

  Kevin’s spiel was well rehearsed. No doubt this wasn’t the first reporter he’d spoken with and Will imagined how the retelling became more elaborate and dramatic every time.

  ‘You actually confronted Mr. Wells in the apartment behind us, is that correct?’

  ‘That’s right, John. Unfortunately, my initial feeling towards Mr. Wells was confirmed when I entered Abigayle’s apartment to find him attempting to cover up what appeared to be her blood on the floor.’

  ‘That sounds frightening,’ the reporter added dramatically.

  ‘Well, a normal person might have felt fear, for sure, but I had to set my own personal safety aside. For Abigayle. You see, the two of us shared a special bond, a kind of unspoken love for each other, I suppose. My only regret is that I wasn’t able to save her. Perhaps if I’d been there sooner, I could’ve prevented all of this. I’ll never forgive myself, so in many ways I’m a victim now too.’

  ‘Did Mr. Wells say or do anything threatening towards you at this time?’

  ‘When I entered the apartment to check that Abigayle was okay, Mr. Wells was eager for me to leave. When I refused, he pulled out a large knife and held it to my throat. Fortunately, I’ve watched all of Bruce Lee’s films, so I was able to defend myself and escape.’

  The camera zoomed back into the reporter, who cleared his throat and said, ‘Thank you, Kevin. That was eyewitness Kevin Wormwood. To be clear, this is still a missing person investigation until Ms. Ward’s whereabouts has been confirmed. This case is, however, linked to an ongoing murder investigation taking place in the Whitechapel area of London. Back to you in the studio, Anna.’

  The report returned to the newsreader in the studio, who began filling in more details about the two cases before cutting away once mo
re to a police press conference. The screen blinked furiously as camera flashes were fired and the sounds of a commotion could be heard in the room. Just then a figure came into frame and sat down in the vacant seat. He was introduced as Chief Inspector Voakes, an unexceptional man in his sixties with a head of grey hair to attest to his apparent seniority. He was wearing the same bland suit that seemed to be standard issue in the police force and had a stern look on his face to match. He hunched forwards into the microphone and spoke briefly, saying, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Before I start, I’d like to make it clear that there will be no questions during this briefing. I’m going to make a short statement and then return to the important work of solving this case. As has been widely reported, an American man in his late twenties, believed to be one William Gordon Wells, is currently at large. He is wanted in connection with the murder of an elderly shop owner, who is yet to be formally identified, and with the disappearance of his own fiancée, Abigayle Ward. Mr. Wells is our prime suspect in both crimes. He was detained by police fleeing the murder scene late Monday evening and placed into a holding cell at a local police station. Mr. Wells subsequently escaped in the early hours of Tuesday morning. An investigation is currently underway to determine the circumstances that precipitated his escape. According to our latest information, Mr. Wells is currently at large in the south of Ireland, having boarded a ferry into Dublin yesterday afternoon and travelling south by bus. We also have reason to believe that he’s on the run from charges related to fraud in his home country. The suspect’s two elder brothers have already been jailed in connection with these offences, and Wells fled the country shortly after they were apprehended. Additional officers have been assigned to the Republic of Ireland and are working closely with local authorities to apprehend this man. He is believed to be armed and potentially extremely dangerous. If seen, please do not attempt to approach this man. We ask that any sightings are reported to the police immediately. Thank you for your time.’